Daughter of the Sea
by Lugubrious DBB
Summary: Two souls from two different worlds, brought together through a chance meeting, learning to love and learning to let go. AU. Rated T, with Chapters 7 and 8 rated high T/low M for some (mild) content.
1. Stanza I

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza I**

* * *

><p><em>Now gather 'round, children, and I'll tell you a tale.<br>__A tale as incredible as can be.  
><em>_A story of joy, and of sorrow, and tears,  
><em>_Of a man who loved a daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>He knew from the first moment he saw her that she had ensnared him, that she would never let him go—nor, in his heart of hearts, did he desire for her to do so.<p>

The warm, orange rays of the early-morning sun cascaded upon the rolling surf of the beach, the steady ebb and flow of the waves sending its soothing tones to his ears as he walked along the soft sand. This was his favorite time of day: the few precious hours in which he could be alone, not having to concern himself with affairs of state, with learning from his father how to be the king he would one day have to be. _No, _he thought to himself as he savored the salty scent of the breeze blowing in with the tide. _None of that matters while I am . . ._

His pace slowed, his head cocking to the side as an unfamiliar sound cascaded toward him from the cluster of rocks just ahead. His curiosity piqued, he cautiously pressed forward, the sound becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was a sound he knew did not belong with the gentle panoply of tones he had grown accustomed to hearing over the years on the beach, and yet the sound did not seem alien, unwelcome. Rather, it seemed to blend in with the gentle, dulcet noises of the beach, its pitch rising and falling with the omnipresent motion of the tide, growing in intensity before relaxing, only to repeat the cycle again and again.

As he drew near to the rocks, he felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind entranced with the aural beauty that caressed his ears. A wordless song drifted through the air, wrapping itself into his brain, a single syllable—pure, untainted by language or dialect—washing over his spirit, the melody foreign to his ears, yet simultaneously comforting, each pitch sounding in a perfect sequence, as if it was the _only _tone that could follow the one preceding it. He stood unmoving, any notion of time escaping from him, his fingers wrapping around the rocks as he finally, ever-so-slowly peered over the rocks, hardly daring to make a sound lest he interrupt the song.

A young woman—perhaps a few years younger than he, he speculated—lay upon the sand, the rocks serving as an enclosure, concealing her presence from prying eyes. Her hair was red as flame, long, luxurious, cascading down her back, as if cushioning her, enfolding her. Her eyelids were closed, her face the picture of innocence as she continued to sing her song. Her legs were nowhere to be seen, her body from the waist down enveloped in the water that lapped upon the surface of the beach.

_Who is she? _he thought to himself, his mind completely taken by this young woman's carefree behavior. It was not proper, after all, for a young woman to venture alone this far from the village, especially this early in the morning. Nor, he contemplated as his eyes took in every detail of her features, was it proper for one such as she to be dressed in such a fashion. He swallowed, realizing that to use the word "dressed" was to imply she was wearing clothes, for her pale skin was on display for all the world to see, the indigo . . . _seashells?_ . . . upon her breasts her only apparent concession to societal expectations of modesty.

Not wanting to interrupt her, yet at the same time wanting to make her acquaintance, he nervously cleared her throat, stepping slowly into the cluster of rocks. Summoning all the princely bravado he could muster, he spoke: "Ex– . . . Excuse me . . . Miss . . .?"

The song disappeared as she started, shooting upward, her eyes opening as she looked upon him, panic evident upon her face, her pupils of purest blue staring at him in fright. She folded her arms across her chest, her breathing coming rapidly, her shoulders heaving as she eyed him suspiciously.

Raising his hands above his head, he took a single step toward her, silently cursing himself for having frightened her. "I . . . I'm sorry," he apologized, his words sounding weak, inadequate to his own ears. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just . . . I heard you singing, and I . . . I wanted to—"

In a flash, the young woman was gone, her form disappearing beneath the surface of the water. Rushing toward the water's edge, he took several steps into the sapphire liquid, his eyes scanning about for any trace of her. Several moments passed by in silence as he continued his search in vain. He frowned in confusion, his heart pounding within his chest, as he realized she was not surfacing for air, confusion quickly giving way to panic as he frantically looked about._ Oh, no! _he thought to himself. _She can't have any air left! Where the hell is she? It's all my fault . . ._

His mind suddenly made up, he dove beneath the water, his legs kicking furiously as he scanned about for any sign of her. The salt stung his pupils as he looked about for any sign of the young woman beneath the surface of the water. Not seeing her, he surfaced, his lungs filling themselves with air as he pushed himself back beneath the water. Swimming further and further from the beach, he continued his search, his sense of guilt growing by the moment.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind. _What if she's back on the beach right now? What if you missed her?_

Doubling back, he thrust his arms forward, preparing to pull himself back above the surface, to swim back to shore. Just as his hands were about to break through the waves above, he suddenly felt his body pulled against its will toward the ocean floor. Panic setting in, he flailed and kicked, desperately trying to escape the iron grip of the onrushing rip tide. His lungs burning, he struggled with all his might, his every move only dragging him further from the surface. Unable to escape the ocean's grasp, his vision began to fade, his struggling slowing down as exhaustion began to set in. As he lost his tenuous hold on consciousness, he thought he felt something take hold of him, but the last remaining vestiges of his rational mind were certain it was merely a figment of his imagination . . .

* * *

><p>The warmth of the morning sun was the first thing he felt as he began his slow return to consciousness. Rolling his head to the side, his eyes still closed, he felt a gentle touch upon his cheek, moving toward his hair, then toward his ear.<p>

"Stop it, Max," he groaned, shaking his head until the touch disappeared. "It's not time to get up yet—"

The events of earlier that morning suddenly rushed through his mind. Eyes shooting open, he sat up quickly, squinting as the bright sunlight nearly blinded him, a loud shriek sounding in his ears.

Turning toward the source of the sound, he felt his jaw drop against his will. The young woman was there, her hand pulling back from the side of his face, her eyes regarding him with a mixture of fear and interest.

Not wanting to frighten her again, he sat up slowly, his hands coming to rest in his lap. "Hi," he said, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he perceived he did. A thin frown appeared upon his lips as he looked out toward the water, realizing for the first time that they were still on the beach, rather than home in his palace. "Did . . . Did you rescue me?"

The young woman angled her head slightly, her brow furrowed as she watched his lips move, as if she was trying to make sense of what he was saying.

_Maybe she doesn't speak our language, _he thought to himself. Taking note once more of her unusual mode of dress—or lack thereof—he shook his head. _Make that "probably doesn't." She's obviously not from around here._

Pointing toward the water, he brought his finger back until it was angled toward the girl. "Did . . ." He paused, doing his best to make his intentions crystal clear. "Did you pull me . . ." He pointed to himself, then back to the water. "From there?"  
>Something about what he said excited the young woman. Nodding exuberantly, her eyes shining with excitement, she pointed back to the ocean. <em>"Da vanda e thérewhen altúleney!"<em>

It was his turn to look at her in confusion as he realized he had no idea what language she was speaking. Clearing his throat, he thought for moment. "Um . . . You probably don't understand me, but I . . . Where . . . are you from?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, a puzzled expression on her face. Realizing he would have to be more direct, he pointed to himself once more. "I am from . . ." Turning to his side, he pointed toward the outline of the palace in the distance. "That is where I live." Looking back at her, he gently took hold of her hand. "Where do you live? Is it close?"

Suddenly seeming to comprehend, she smiled and took hold of his hand, pointing excitedly with her free hand back to the ocean. _"Altúleney! Altúleney!"_

Running a hand through his hair in exasperation, he frowned. "No. That's . . . That's not what I mean. I don't mean where you just came from, I mean where you—"

He drew in a sharp breath, his hands trembling suddenly as he looked down for the first time. Blinking, rubbing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind of what he was certain was a figment of his imagination. _I'm seeing things! I'm seeing things! This isn't real! This isn't—_

His face slowly drained itself of color as he stared intently at where the young woman's legs should have been. Instead of smooth, white skin, his eyes were greeted with glistening scales of emerald, cascading down a single limb, the radiant display ending with a splayed tailfin of thin, gossamer-like flesh that gently came to rest upon his own leg, delicately moving back and forth of its own accord.

_God Almighty! _he thought to himself, the world around him beginning to spin. _She . . . She's a—_

For the second time that morning, he lost consciousness, his head making contact with the smooth sand of the beach as darkness overwhelmed him once again.

* * *

><p>The weight of something upon his chest is what brought him back to wakefulness once more. <em>What a strange dream, <em>he ruminated as he forced his eyelids to open. _I don't know where _that _came from, but—_

His thoughts trailed away as his eyes made sense of what was pressing into his torso. The young woman was still there, her cheek against his chest, her curtain of red hair draped about her face, framing it in radiant, crimson light. She was staring at his shirt, studying it, her fingers marveling at the smoothness of the fabric, the lightness of its weight against her palm.

Awkwardly, he shifted his weight, feebly trying to think of something to say to her. "I . . . I'm sorry about that. I . . . I must have . . ."

Realizing he was awake, she pulled herself to a sitting position, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the water nearby.

His gaze fell upon the shimmering jade scales of her fluke, confirming beyond a doubt that what he had seen was all too real. _I don't believe it. All these years . . . All the stories sailors would tell about . . ._

Leaning forward, he raised his hands in what he hoped was a nonthreatening posture, pointing toward her. "You're . . . You're a _mermaid_ . . ."

The girl from the sea raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar word, her face betraying an expression of displeasure.

_Great, _he contemplated. _Now I've insulted her. _"Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to offend you. I mean . . . Oh, God, you have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"

_Think, you idiot! _his mind snapped at him. _Use your diplomatic training. Pretend she's a girl from some run-of-the-mill foreign culture. What would you do?_

Straightening his back, he pointed to his chest. "Eric," he said slowly, deliberately. "My. Name. Is. Eric."

A puzzled look fell upon her countenance momentarily before shifting into an excited grin. "A– . . . Ah– . . . Ay-rick!"

He let out a small shout of surprise as she suddenly threw herself forward, her face pressed to his chest once more, her fin curled about him as she tugged at his shirt. "Ay-rick?" she repeated, looking at the garment expectantly.

Despite himself, he found himself laughing. "No," he said, delicately taking hold of the sea-maiden's hands. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked into the wide, innocent pools of blue that were her eyes, his heart racing. _Dear God, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!_

She frowned, confusion falling upon her face once again. _"Ne délethen . . . _Ay-rick?"

Forcing himself to focus, he gently brought her hands to his face, allowing her fingers to touch his skin, hoping this would help her understand. "Eric," he repeated as he brought her hand to his chin. "That's who I am. I mean . . . Oh, God, this is so difficult to explain . . ."

The sea-maiden stared deeply into his own eyes for several silent moments, thinking, analyzing. Finally, she nodded excitedly, taking hold of his shoulders. "Eh– . . . _Eric_!"

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized she understood the concept. "That's right," he said. He started as he felt the delicate flesh of her tailfin brush against his leg, the furthest recesses of his mind recognizing that it was warm to the touch, in no way unpleasant, unlike the feeling one received from touching the cold clamminess of a fish.

Focusing, he looked at her. "What is your name?" he asked slowly. "I mean, what should I call you? Can you even understand—"

"Ariel."

His eyes widened in amazement as she pointed to herself again and again. As he sat in stunned silence, she suddenly seemed irritated, as if he was unable to grasp the simple concept. Thrusting her finger at him, she shook it before his face. "Eric," she stated matter-of-factly before pointing at herself once again. "Ariel."

"Ariel . . ."

Allowing the name to glide off his tongue, relishing the beauty of each syllable, he smiled. "That's . . . That's a beautiful name."

Hoping he was not presuming too much, he took hold of her hand again, stroking her fingers delicately. "Thank you for saving me . . . Ariel."

She suddenly pulled her hand away, a worried look on her face. Looking up toward the sun, she shook her head, murmuring to herself in her own language. Using her arms, she pulled herself back toward the water as he stood up in surprise.

"Wait!" he called out as her form became enveloped by the surf, his mind suddenly realizing he might never see her again. "Don't go! Don't leave! I . . ."

Her green tailfin rose above the surface of the water, flicking once as it propelled her deep into the sea once more. His heart sank in his chest as he realized she was gone, most likely forever. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned back toward the beach as he left the small cluster of rocks, his feet carrying him back toward the palace, a sudden sense of emptiness washing over him as he walked along the familiar path.

_Ariel . . . Ariel . . ._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	2. Stanza II

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza II**

* * *

><p><em>Her beauty unrivaled by mortal women,<br>__Her hair like fire, her skin like ivory,  
><em>_Her fin like the jade of the summertime leaves.  
><em>_Yes, this was the daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>Days passed without incident, each one the same as the one preceding it—ordinary, routine. He continued his habitual morning walk along the beach, each time hoping against hope that she would be waiting for him, that he would see her again.<p>

But as days turned to weeks, his hopes began to fade away, the dismal reality that he was never going to be fortunate enough to be graced with her presence again slowly impressing itself upon his mind. _It's probably for the best, _he ruminated as his feet trod upon the sand one gray July morning, his eyes gazing upon the foaming water. _She has a life down there, after all. I wonder what it's like—_

"Eric!"

His heart skipped several beats as the unexpected voice sounded in his ears. Whirling about, he realized he had walked back to the rock cluster yet again without even realizing it. Looking around expectantly, his spirit sank as he saw nothing but beach and water, no sign of the sea-maiden anywhere.

_Get it together, Eric, _he ordered himself as he glumly turned to leave. _You're starting to hear things now. That's never a good—_

"Eric!"

The voice returned, now tinged with a hint of irritation.

_Now this is getting out of hand, _he thought as he walked back toward the rocks. _You've already checked, and there's nothing—_

She was there now, her face rising above the surface of the water. Gesturing toward him, she called out once again: "Eric!"

His feet were running before he even realized what was happening, his being suddenly filled with excitement. Kneeling beside the water's edge, he took hold of her hand, carefully helping her to the sandy shoreline.

"I . . . I'm so happy to see you again," he rambled, not thinking for a moment how ludicrous he may sound. "I've been waiting and waiting for you to come every single day, and . . . Oh, wait a minute! I didn't mean it like that! I mean, I'm sure you've been busy with lots of other things. I didn't mean to sound like—"

She laughed suddenly, shaking her head back and forth as she stared at the gibbering man before her. The beauty of her voice sent shivers down his spine as he regained his composure. Clearing his throat, he sat beside her, his legs stretched out next to her powerful fluke. He frowned as she eagerly handed him something, her hands pointing to the object in excitement. "Eric! Eric!"

"I . . . I see, Ariel," he responded, taking a closer look at the item she had thrust into his hands. He whistled to himself as he realized he was looking at a leather-bound book, its pages of parchment damp, most likely the victim of a shipwreck somewhere upon the ocean waves.

Impatiently, she opened the book for him, paying no heed to the care required to ensure that the waterlogged pages remained intact. Her finger thrust itself toward a drawing upon one of the pages, pressing itself forcefully against the parchment.

Understanding dawned upon him. "You . . . You want me to teach you what this is?"

She pointed to him, then back toward the book, her patience nearly at its end. "Eric!"

"Okay, okay," he said. Taking her finger, he put it to the drawing of a round, red fruit. "This is an apple."

She looked back at him, her eyes shining with excitement. "Ah– . . . Ah-puhl?"

"Yes," he said, amazed at how quickly she comprehended. "Apple."

She was acting as though this simple word was the most important thing she had ever learned. "Ah-puhl! Ah-puhl! _Apple!_"

An inquisitive look came upon her. "Apple?" she asked, frowning.

"It's food," he said, amused. "You eat it."

"Food?" she repeated. "Eat . . . Eat apple?"  
>It was his turn to laugh as he reached into the pouch tied to his belt. "That's right, Ariel. That's right. And . . ."<p>

With a grand gesture, he withdrew an apple from his pouch. "Here. Try it."

With a gleeful cry, she snatched the fruit from his hand, cradling it in her hands, studying it, memorizing every detail. "Apple!" she murmured excitedly. "Apple!"

Prying the apple from her hand, he brought it to his lips. "Like this."

She watched in amazement as he bit into the apple, eagerly extending her hand out to take it from him. Hurriedly, she sunk her own teeth into its flesh, her lips breaking forth into a broad smile as she savored its sweet, unfamiliar flavor.

He smiled in return. "Do you like it?"

Taking another bite of the apple, she nodded vigorously. "Like . . . Like eat apple!"

_Wow, _he thought to himself as he watched her devour the fruit. _She really is a fast learner. I wonder if . . . _

Taking her arm, he pointed to the book. "Ariel, would you like me to teach you some more words?"

She looked down at the book, then back up at him, her hands clutching themselves in anticipation. _"Thruélde—"_

Stopping herself, she squinted, concentrating on forming the unfamiliar words. "M– . . . More. Eric . . . More, Eric!"

Laughing, he turned the page. "All right. Let's see what other pictures we can find . . ."

* * *

><p>Their meetings quickly became a matter of routine, taking place on a daily basis. Every morning he would rise, slip out of the palace before his father or any of the servants were awake, and sprint to the cluster of rocks that had become their meeting place. Without fail, she would be there waiting for him, her face lighting up as she caught sight of his approach, her warm smile melting his heart. He would take her hand, relishing all the while the smoothness of her touch, and help guide her to the shore, her body coming to rest upon the white sand. Finally together, undisturbed by the outside world and its concerns, they would savor each other's company, he helping her learn the language of the land dwellers, she bringing him a small treasure from beneath the waves—a seashell one day, a piece of coral the next. She would blush ever so slightly as she gave him her daily offering, as if embarrassed by the worthlessness of what to her were ordinary, everyday items. To him, however, each token of her world was more valuable than any treasure in his kingdom, a precious memento of her that only he possessed. Rather than discarding them, he stored in a small chest in his private chambers, each relic of the sea placed carefully in its place, safe and secure.<p>

Her mastery of his language increased by leaps and bounds. In a matter of weeks, she had learned to form complete sentences, to describe not only tangible objects and their properties but also ephemeral concepts: like, dislike, happiness, sadness_. _Modestly, he attributed her progress to her brilliant mind and her eagerness to learn everything she could about the human world. Yet, each night before he went to bed, he would permit his thoughts to consider—if only for the briefest of moments—that her accomplishments might just have something to do with her growing attachment to . . .

Now that they could effectively communicate with each other, they would spend their time together regaling each other with stories of their lives and the lives of their loved ones. She would mesmerize him with tales of her adventures beneath the waves. He, for his part, described in detail the sense of loss he had felt since his mother's untimely death several years earlier, how her absence had created a void in his spirit that had never adequately been filled.

Her face filled with sorrow at his words, her hand gently taking hold of his own as she stroked it comfortingly. He opened his mouth to thank her for the gesture, but hesitated as he noticed tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, afraid he had upset her. "Did . . . Did I say something—"

"No," she said quickly, her head turning away. "It . . . It's just that . . . I . . . how do you say . . ."

Sighing, she looked back at him, no longer able to contain her tears. "My _mánawe_ . . . My mother . . . She . . . She . . ."

Understanding dawned on him in that instant. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, his hand running gently through her long red hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I didn't mean to make you remember."

Pulling away, she dried her eyes, forcing a smile back to her lips. "It's all right," she said softly. "I just . . . I . . . I miss her. Is that . . . Is that right?"

He nodded silently, his heart aching for the young sea-maiden. "I wish I could take your pain away," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I wish I could make it so you were never hurt again."

She shifted her position upon the sand, curling her fluke upward and back down at an angle, resting her arms where a woman's knees would have been, her delicate fins brushing against his leg. "When I . . . think of her, I . . . I like to come to the surface. Alone. And I . . . I sing the song she used to sing to me when I was a _véldengaíla_ . . . I mean, when I was a child. That's what I was doing when you first saw me."

He thought for a moment before responding. "Ariel, would you . . . would you sing that song again? For me?"

He felt his cheeks burn red with embarrassment as he cursed himself under his breath. To his surprise, however, she did not laugh at him, but instead offered her hand to him.

"Only if you lay next to me," she said, pointing toward the rising sun, its rays fighting to cut through the clouds gathering above. "I like to sing toward it. It's like I'm welcoming the day with my voice. And it's so much more comfortable if you lay on the sand."

Standing, he walked toward her, taking her hand as he stretched his body out on the sand, the cool ocean water moving back and forth over his toes. Soundlessly, she shifted her body until she aligned with him, her head coming to rest upon his chest as it had the first day they had met. Her fin laying across his feet, her arm stretched across his torso, she sang softly, her voice soothing his soul, the dulcet melody transporting him away from the pressures and worries of his life.

As she sang, he frowned for an instant as a troubling thought crossed his mind. _What exactly is your plan? _he thought to himself. _If I didn't know any better, I would say your were falling—_

He shut the voice away, not wanting the beauty of her song to be disturbed by unwanted thoughts. All his fears and trepidations could be dealt with another time. For here, in that moment, there was only the two of them . . . and nothing else mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	3. Stanza III

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza III**

* * *

><p><em>Such an odd pair were they: she of water, he of land.<br>__As unlike as any two could be.  
><em>_Yet somehow the two, fast friends they soon grew,  
><em>_The man and the daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>By late September, he had forgotten what his life had been like without her. Indeed, he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate when he was not around her, often with nearly disastrous consequences. His father had been forced to severely reprimand him for his lack of attention after a negotiation with an ally—a negotiation his father had placed him in charge of as a test of his leadership—nearly collapsed due to his preoccupied state. It had been an embarrassing affair and had nearly made him lose all confidence in himself. <em>How can I rule a kingdom if I cannot even focus on what needs to be done? <em>he berated himself. _You're better than this! How could you be so stupid?!_

She could sense the despair in his spirit as he glumly approached their hideaway the next morning. As he sat on the beach next to her, she carefully rested her hand on his shoulder. _"De féldemen spirate?" _she asked delicately. "What is wrong?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he buried his head in his hands. "I can't do this, Ariel," he whispered. "I can't be king."

She looked at him, her eyes of blue filled with empathy. "Of course you can," she said, doing her best to comfort him.

"No, I can't," he responded, shaking his head. "You don't understand. My father is a living legend. When he took the throne, our kingdom was on the verge of collapse. Our farms were dying out. Our trade was nonexistent. We should have been wiped from the face of the earth. But . . ." He inhaled sharply. "But my father turned everything around. He made new allies. He invested what little resources we had in new farming techniques. And now . . . Now, our kingdom is the most powerful nation in the world."

She looked at him, confused. "I . . . I don't understand. That is a . . . bad thing?"

He threw up his hands. "It is when you're an idiot like me! I'm not like him, Ariel. I'm not as brilliant. I'm not as politically savvy. I'm just . . . I'm just—"

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "You don't have to be like him, Eric. So do not try to be. You're smart and caring and a wonderful man. You'll make a great king!"

He opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it, her eyes looking at him, filled with confidence in his abilities. Realizing it was pointless to argue, he nodded.

"Thank you," he said softly. He cleared his throat, a painful admission forcing its way from his lips. "You know, you're the only real friend I've ever had."

She looked at him in disbelief.

"No, I mean it," he insisted. "I've . . . I've never been able to make friends. When you're royalty, people tend to treat you differently. They forget you're a real person with feelings and emotions just like them. But with you . . . I can tell you anything and you won't judge me. I can be honest with you. I can share with you just how I feel and you always know what to say to make me feel better."

He felt his heartbeat suddenly quicken as he realized what he had been trying to deny for so long. _Tell her! _his mind screamed at him. _Tell her just how you feel!_

_ But what if she laughs? _he silently argued back. _What if she thinks I'm—_

_ You'll never know unless you tell her the truth! Do it! _Do it!

"Eric?"

Her voice brought him out of his reverie, a confused expression upon her face. "Eric, are you all right?"

"Yes," he said quickly, hoping to conceal his nervousness. "I'm . . . I'm all right. I just . . . I just wanted to tell you something, and I . . . I didn't know how you were going to react, so I—"

"Yes?" she asked innocently, leaning in toward him.

At the last moment, his nerve failed him. Hastily, he scrambled to change the subject. "There's . . . There's going to be a fireworks display tonight in honor of our successful renegotiation of a trade alliance. I . . . I was wondering if you would like to come and watch them."

Her eyes sparkled as they did whenever he offered her some new insight into the human world. "'Fah-eye-er works'? What are 'fah-eye-er works'?"

He laughed in spite of his better judgment, her innocent excitement moving him as it always did. "They're . . . They're like lights in the sky that make all sorts of colors. We humans use them when we celebrate something important." He hesitated slightly. "So . . . are you interested—"

The air left in his lungs escaped through his mouth as she hurled herself toward him, arms wrapped tightly about his own, pinning him in place. "Yes!" she exclaimed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Yes, I am!"

Having finally managed to fill his lungs with precious oxygen, he smiled, relief filling his spirit as he brought his fingertips to his cheek, delicately stroking where her lips had been moments earlier. _Did . . . Did she really just—_

His thoughts were interrupted by a cry that emanated from her throat. Glancing toward her, he furrowed his brow, his countenance lined with worry. "What? What is it?"

His fear abated as her dulcet laugh filled the air, her hands outstretched in wonder as cool droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. "What . . . What is the human word for . . . for this?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Rain," he answered. "We call it 'rain.'"

"Rain . . ."

She giggled once more as the cool droplets splashed across her skin, her smile wider than he had ever seen before. _"Frígidate," _she murmured. "So cold . . ."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've never seen rain before."

She raised her own eyebrow in response, crossing her arms. "Of course I have," she stated matter-of-factly. "But I've never stayed above the surface long enough to really feel it. We are taught from the time we can swim on our own not to stray above the water during a storm. To be above the water during a storm means . . ." She raised her shoulders in a modest shrug, as if to suggest that the implication was perfectly obvious.

A frown tugged at his lips as he realized what she was suggesting. "You mean . . . You can . . . You can die?"

She cocked her head in confusion. "'Die'? What does 'die' mean?"

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, this unexpected direction the conversation was moving troubling him greatly. "'Die' means . . . Um . . . It means when you're not alive anymore. When you go away forever, and never come back."

Comprehending, she unexpectedly laughed at him, shaking her head, her red tresses falling into her eyes, framing her face. "Oh, is that what you mean? Oh, Eric. Of course we can die." She gripped his hand, her fingers lightly tracing his wrist. "Did you think we live forever?"

He suddenly felt very, very stupid. "I . . . I don't know," he mumbled, trying not to sound too idiotic. "It's just . . . I knew your mother was killed. But I guess I assumed that, as long as you were careful . . . I mean, all the sailors who have told stories of mermaids—"

He winced as she glared at him at the use of that word again. "Sorry. I meant . . . All the stories about your people suggest that your people are immortal."

The unfamiliar word caused her some confusion for a moment. "'Ihm-mor-tahl'?" "No," she said, shaking her head. "No. We can die just like humans can. But if nothing happens to us, we live for a very long time."

His interest was piqued. "How long?"

She cupped his chin with her fingers. "My father has seen more than 200 complete cycles of moons and tides."

His jaw dropped open, dragging her fingers along with it. "Two . . . _Two hundred_?!"

"That's right," she responded, not flummoxed in the slightest. She nonchalantly flicked her fin against his leg as she leaned forward, her curiosity setting in once more. "What about humans? How long do they live before they . . . die?"

The question caught him off guard, causing him to stumble toward a response. "Um . . . Well, a few of us are lucky enough to last about 80 years . . . I mean, 'cycles.' But most of us . . ." He shifted ever-so-slightly upon the sand, cognizant of the raindrops staining his skin and clothing, even more aware that her fin—her warm, beautiful fin—was gently stroking his knee, as if to ease the distress he was apparently telegraphing. "Most of us are lucky if we make it to 60 or so." It was his turn to look at her inquisitively. "Why do you ask?"

He swore that for the briefest of moments her face betrayed an expression he had never seen on her before: overwhelming sadness laced with longing and regret. The moment was gone in an instant, her smile returning to her lips as she rested her hand upon his shoulder. "It . . . It was nothing. I . . . I was just—"

She looked up at the sun as it fought its way through the grey clouds overhead, her face falling as she realized its position was much higher than she had expected. _"Fluvélethway," _she muttered under her breath as she looked back at him in dismay. "It's later than I thought. My family . . . They'll be wondering where I am."

His stomach turned knots within his stomach as the voice in his mind began shouting at him once more. _Now's your chance, you fool! Tell her! Tell her now!_

His courage failed him once again as he released his grip on her hand. "They still don't know that you come up here, do they?"

Her eyebrow raised itself again as she glanced at him. "Does your father know about us?"

"Touché," he conceded, kneeling to help her pull herself into the cool waters just beyond the shoreline. "So . . . I'll see you tonight? We'll be on a ship somewhere beyond the harbor. Do you know where that is?"

Her eyes sparkled as the reminder of the promised fireworks raced through her mind. "I'll be there," she said. Without warning, she took hold of his shirt, pulling him close to the water, her lips kissing his cheek once more. "Just look for me you will find me." She glanced over her shoulder, preparing to swim back to her home. "These 'fah-eye-er works' . . . Are they beautiful?"

"Yes," he murmured, his voice low. "Yes, they are."

Her smile was wider than he had ever seen it before. "I can't wait." Her hand pressed itself to his palm, her fingers outstretched against his own. "_Threfalten e lemáicum, _Eric," she said softly. Her sapphire eyes bored into his own. "That is how we say farewell. At least, that is how we say it to the ones we love most."

He gasped softly, his heart racing as he realized that she was sharing something precious and invaluable. He closed his fingers around hers, their hands holding each other tightly. "_Thre . . . Threfalten e lemáicum, _Ariel."

She laughed as the rain danced about her face. "Very good for a first time. Very, very good. . . ."

Slowly, reluctantly, the two released their grip on each other's hand, him watching silently as she sank into the depths of the water, disappearing from his sight.

_Yes, Ariel, _he thought to himself as he began his slow trek back to the palace._ The fireworks are beautiful. But not nearly as beautiful as you. _Frustrated, he kicked a stone along his path, the small object skipping across the surface of the sand. _Hopefully, someday I'll actually have the courage to tell you. . . ._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	4. Stanza IV

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza IV**

* * *

><p><em>Their days turned to weeks, then to months in a flash,<br>__For when together, time itself ceased to be.  
><em>_All they saw was each other, for nothing else mattered,  
><em>_To the man and his daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>He stood on the deck of the mighty vessel, his attention focused not upon the guests that had gathered to praise him and his father for their work, but instead upon the surface of the sea below. His eyes straining in the dim light provided by the moon above, he continued his vain search, hoping to see a shock of red hair amidst the darkness of the water, or perhaps the glistening of emerald scales upon a tailfin cutting through the waves. But, to his dismay, he saw no sight of—<p>

Heavy footsteps behind him broke him from his reverie, a firm hand clasping his shoulder. Turning, he was greeted by a familiar, bearded face, a face filled with authority, with power. Bowing, he hung his head before the man. "Father . . ."

The king shook his head as he clasped his arm around his son. "Now is not the time for formalities, my son," he said, taking a long sip from his glass. "This is a celebration of our work. You should be happy, proud of what we have accomplished. This treaty we have negotiated will ensure our people's prosperity for generations to come."

He frowned as he noticed the distant gaze in his son's eyes. "What is the matter, my son? Why do you look so unhappy? Is something troubling you?"

"No." The younger man waved his hand dismissively, doing his best to act the part of the grateful son. "No, Father. I . . . I've never been better. Really."

His father shook his head. "You cannot fool me, Eric. I know you too well for that." His hand on his son's shoulder, he turned the prince's attention to the celebrating crowd on the far side of the deck. "Look at them, my son. Look how proud our people are of you. You have earned this night. And yet, I sense you do not feel as though this is where you belong."

The prince grimaced as he turned toward his father. "I . . . I am grateful for everything you have taught me, Father. Really, I am. It's just . . . I . . . I . . ."

"You are worried about what will happen when I am gone."

The prince looked at his father in amazement. "How . . . How did you—"

The king took a long drink from his glass. "When a man gets to be my age, Eric, he begins to reflect upon his legacy. What he will leave behind him when he is no longer upon this earth." His eyes moistened slightly. "I must admit, I have been doing more and more of that these past few years ever since your mother . . ."

The prince nodded, his jaw firmly set. "I do not wish to disappoint you, Father. I do not want to undo all the good you have accomplished. But I worry that is precisely what will happen when I . . . when you . . ."

The king took hold of his son's wrist, grasping it firmly. "You cannot choose who and what you are, Eric. All you can do is make the best of what you are given in this life." He laughed softly as he studied his son's face. "You are my son. _My _son, Eric. You will make mistakes. You will fail. But you will learn from your errors, just as I did. Just like my father before me, and his father, and his. You have been taught well, my son. I have no doubt you will make a fine king when I am no longer with you. So long as you remember to let your heart be guided by what is best for our people. That you have been entrusted to care for them above and beyond your own needs and desires."

The younger man felt his spirit sink slightly at his father's words. _Even at the cost of what I want? _Bowing once more, he released his grip on his father's hand. "Thank you, Father. I . . . I swear I will never forget. I'll be along in a moment, I promise. Just . . . Just give me a few minutes."

The king shook his head. "Very well, Eric. Just do not forget to pay your respects to our guests."

As his father walked away, the prince turned back toward the ocean water surging about, his heart suddenly heavy. After several minutes of solitary contemplation, he turned to move to join the guests, his mind weighed down with uncertainty.

"Eric!"

The moment he heard the loud whisper, he felt his heart skip several beats. Racing toward the side of the ship, he looked down in the water, hoping he had not imagined the voice.

She was waiting for him, her smiling face glowing in the soft moonlight, her flaming hair cascading down her back as she rose above the surface.

"You made it!" he whispered as he looked down upon her, his own face shining with happiness.

"I didn't miss it, did I?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry. "I had some trouble getting away from my family, but I wanted to see the . . . the 'fah-eye-er works' so badly!" She shook her head quickly, remembering something. "And you too, of course!"

He glanced about, taking care to ensure no one was around to hear their conversation. "No, you didn't," he assured her. "I made sure they didn't start without you. Now, if you'll just hold on a minute. . . ."

Rising, he strode toward the center of the deck, where the guests had gathered. Politely greeting those who approached him, he made his way toward the crewman responsible for the evening's entertainment. Wordlessly, he nodded to him, the crewman reciprocating.

Taking a glass of champagne from one of the servants, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Honored guests, may I please have your attention?"

The deck of the ship fell silent as all eyes fell upon him. Swallowing, taking great pains to ensure that proper protocol was followed, he looked about. "Thank you all very much for joining us this evening as we celebrate the renewal of this historic trade agreement." Looking to the side, he saw his father watching, silently encouraging him to continue. "My father and I . . . We are very, very grateful for your support. Without you, the great people of this kingdom, none of this would be possible."

The crowd burst into polite applause at his words, their eyes fixated upon him. Smiling awkwardly, he continued. "And now, as a token of our appreciation, please enjoy this fireworks display we gladly give to you." Raising his glass, he called out in a loud voice: "To prosperity and peace!"

"To prosperity and peace!"

The crowd jubilantly echoed his words, the sound of clinking glasses quickly overcome with murmurs of amazement as the fireworks display began. Sparkling bursts of red, blue, green, and orange light danced in the night sky, sending their shimmering rays down upon the waters below.

Seeing the crowd sufficiently distracted, he slipped away, moving back to the far end of the deck. Kneeling by the edge, he smiled broadly as he saw her gripping the hull of the ship, her eyes filled with wonder as she beheld the wondrous sight before her. She started noticeably at each small explosion as she looked back and forth between him and the radiant display above.

"Eric," she finally whispered. "It's . . . It's so . . ." Her brow wrinkled slightly as she struggled to form the words she was searching for. "What is the human word for—"

"'Beautiful'?" he offered, his voice gentle.

She nodded, still entranced by their fireworks. "'Beautiful' . . . That's right. So—"

A loud noise filled the air, panicked cries following closely behind. Standing, he turned to see several of the crewmen ordering guests into the lifeboats, their faces lined with terror.

"Hold on," he said to her as he walked quickly toward the center of the chaos. Finally managing to get the attention of one of the crewmen, he grabbed his shoulder. "What's going on? Why are you sending people into the lifeboats?"

A loud explosion rocked the deck, flame flying through the air, setting the wood of the ship ablaze. Screams filled the air as he pulled himself back to his feet along with the crewman. "What was that?!"

The crewman looked petrified. "Your Highness, you have to get to the lifeboats at once! Your father has already—"

Ignoring him, he shook his head. "What happened?!"

The crewman shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Your Highness. Something went wrong with one of the fireworks. I don't know, maybe some of the powder leaked out and we didn't see it, but anyway, somehow it was lit before it was positioned properly. And now—"

Another loud explosion rocked the vessel, tearing a massive hole in the hull. The screams were louder now, more desperate.

His hands were back on the crewman's shoulders. "I want all the guests evacuated off this ship at once. Do you understand me?"

"But . . . But Your Highness!" the crewman stammered. "What about yourself—"

"Get the rest of them off first! That's an order!" he insisted, fighting to see through the thick black smoke rising from the deck.

"Your Highness!"

Another crewman's voice rang out from across the deck. "The lifeboats! A third of them have caught fire. They're useless!"

The prince frowned, contemplating their dwindling options. "We'll have to double up on the ones we do have," he said, his voice filled with resignation. Gesturing toward the edge of the deck, he pointed firmly. "Start ordering the civilians to jump into the water."

The crewman looked at him in confusion. "Your . . . Your Highness! Another storm is rolling in! The water is starting to become quite choppy! It's not safe—"

"If they stay here, they'll die for sure, won't they?" he interrupted. "Tell them to—"

A third explosion, louder than the others, sent another torrent of flame rushing over the ship. The crewman screamed as the flame danced over him, setting him ablaze. In excruciating agony, the sailor hurled himself over the edge of the deck into the waters below, disappearing into the darkness.

Realizing his path across the deck was impassable due to the intensity of the surging heat, he pulled himself to the rail surrounding the edge of the deck. Closing his eyes, he dove into the water, bracing himself for the impact.

Coldness washed over him as he sank into the depths of the ocean. Opening his eyes, he kicked his legs, his arms flailing as he fought to break through the surface, to recover life-giving air. But the heavy woolen coat he was wearing pulled him down, the garment feeling as if it weighed ten times its weight. Panic began to set in as he fought to unfasten the jacket's buttons, but the water made it difficult for him to maintain his grip upon the brass fasteners. His air running out, he felt the familiar darkness begin to come upon him once more as he slowly lost the energy to resist the inevitable.

The next thing he knew, he felt a pair of hands upon his chest, rapidly unbuttoning the jacket. Opening his eyes, he saw her, her face lined with worry as she concentrated on her task. Finally succeeding, she tugged at the jacket, pulling his arms free from its constraints. Her arm wrapped around his back, she kicked her powerful fin, his legs feebly doing their best to assist her, as they fought through the rapidly increasing current toward the water's surface.

His head above the water, his lungs heaved as they inhaled breath after breath, consciousness returning to him as his body's need for air diminished. Able to think once more, he turned to her, her arms still tightly locked around him, holding him close.

"Thank . . . Thank you again," he gasped as his eyes beheld the chaos surrounding them. The flaming vessel was sinking beneath the waves, the orange light billowing around it fading as the flames were extinguished by the waters of the sea. A torrent of panicked cries filled the air, screaming for assistance.

"I have to help them," he said, pulling away from her as he began to swim toward one of the lifeboats.

She grabbed hold of his shoulder, preventing him from moving. "Let me help you."

He shook his head. "They'll see you. You . . . You can't—"

"There isn't time, Eric," she interrupted. Gesturing toward the lifeboats toward his left, she turned to swim toward the group on their right. "Go!"

Realizing she was right, he swam toward the tiny boats, his heart filled with worry. Approaching them, he worked quickly to help those clinging to the boats to pull themselves into the emergency vessels, doing his best to remain calm. Swimming from boat to boat, he ignored all efforts by the passengers and crew to pull him out as well, refusing to save himself until he was confident all others were safe.

Finally, satisfied that those he had helped were safe, he ignored their cries for reason and swam back toward where the ship had begun its descent to the ocean floor, the prow of the craft still smoldering above the surface. His eyes darting about, he looked frantically for her, his heart racing with worry. "Ariel! Ariel, where are you?!"

Relief washed over him as, through the sheets of rain that had begun to fall, he saw her wave to him and begin to swim through the choppy waves toward him. A loud explosion rang in the night as the last remaining vestiges of the sinking ship erupted in flame, sending shards of debris upon the water below.

He shielded his eyes from the brilliant light cast by the explosion, momentarily blinded by its intensity. Opening his eyes once more as he tread water, he searched about for her, realizing she was nowhere to be found. _Oh, no! _he thought as he swam through the water toward where he had last seen her. _Please, don't let her be—_

His heart nearly stopped as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shock of red hair slowly sink beneath the water's surface, a piece of flaming debris floating atop the waves. Filling his lungs with as much air as he could, he plunged into the cold, stormy sea, his legs kicking furiously as he fought through the water. The darkness of the water made it almost impossible for him to see anything save what was immediately before him. Terrified, he squinted, his air beginning to run out as he—

His eyes widened as he caught sight of her, her eyes closed, her unmoving body slowly sinking toward the ocean floor, a dark bruise upon her temple. Willing himself to continue, he hurled himself forward, his arm draping around her waist as he kicked his way above the surface once again.

Catching his breath, he looked at her through the torrential downpour, her face impassive, unresponsive. _Oh, God, please! Not now! Not now!_

"Ariel! Ariel, wake up, dammit!" he shouted, shaking her as he tread water, his lips drawn tightly with worry. "Come on! Show me you're still alive!"

Just when he thought he had arrived too late, she moaned slightly, her face contorted in an expression of pain, her eyes remaining shut.

"Good," he whispered as he stroked her hair with his free hand. "It's going to be all right, Ariel. I'll . . . I'll take care of you. I promise . . ."

Glancing up at the sky, he noticed, to his relief, that the moon had emerged from behind the storm clouds, its white hue washing upon the waters once more. In the distance, he could see the beach, its sand beckoning him like a beacon in the night.

"Hold on, Ariel," he said, tightening his grip on her waist as he began the long trek toward the shoreline. "We're going to make it. We're going to be okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	5. Stanza V

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza V**

* * *

><p><em>Yet still they resisted, hesitating, unsure,<em>  
><em>To confess their love that was now plain to see.<em>  
><em>But the day came at last when the words left their lips:<em>  
><em>The man and the daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>He lay still upon the sand of the beach, his muscles exhausted from the strain of his swim through the ocean waters. The moonlight shone down upon the small cluster of rocks that had become his sanctuary from the world, the storm clouds of earlier that evening nowhere to be seen. The only sound that filled his ears in the eerie quiet of the night was the omnipresent lull of the pulsating tide, accompanied almost imperceptibly by the soft, steady breathing of the sea-maiden at his side that seemed—remarkably—to align perfectly with the rhythm of the cascading ocean waves, her scales of emerald sparkling brilliantly in the soft nighttime glow.<p>

Raising his head, he looked out over the waters, the smoke from the tail of the sunken vessel still visible against the horizon. Whistling softly, he marveled at just how far he had managed to swim to reach the safety of the rocks, his feat all the more remarkable considering that one arm had been locked in place the entire time, holding his unconscious companion tightly for fear that she might slip from his grasp and be lost to him forever.

He turned his attention to her still-slumbering form, his eyes fixated upon the gash visible upon her brow. The injury was not nearly as severe as he had initially feared, but it still pained him greatly to see her flawless skin marred by such a painful wound. Seeing that blood still flowed from the cut, he removed his shirt, delicately pressing the folded garment against her head.

At his touch, she stirred, her eyes opening, widening as she caught sight of him. An expression of panic flew across her face as she struggled to remember why she was not at home at so late an hour, her eyes darting wildly about, her hands trembling.

"Ariel! Ariel, it's all right! You're safe!"

He delicately cradled her head in his arm, her hair flowing over his elbow as she came to her senses, her breathing slowing to its normal pace, her eyes of blue looking up, a small smile finally forming on her lips. _"Achílethwen ethúlevay," _she murmured as she brought her hand up to the shirt resting upon her brow. Confused, she looked at him. "What . . . What happened?"

He frowned. "You don't remember?"

She shook her head slowly, wincing as a fresh wave of pain ran through her. "I . . . I remember seeing the 'fah-eye-er works' and . . ." She clasped his hand tightly as she spoke, excitement written upon her face. "They were so beautiful. Just like . . . like you said they would be. But then, I . . . I . . ." Her eyes welled up with tears as she fought to recall what had followed. "Why can't I remember?"

"I'm not surprised," he admitted as he carefully pulled the shirt away from her temple. The blood had finally ceased to flow, leaving only a small, swollen knot where the fragment of wood had struck her. "You took a pretty harsh blow to the head. At first, I didn't think you . . . I mean . . ."

Shifting her weight, she pulled herself to a sitting position. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "There was an . . . an accident on the ship. One of the fireworks must have ignited prematurely and . . . Anyway, the whole ship caught fire and exploded before we could get everybody off. You . . ." He felt his face turn red in embarrassment. "You saved me again. And then, we helped get everybody onto the lifeboats." He laughed mildly. "You were so fast. I've never seen anything quite like it."

He noticed her face pale noticeably at that information. "Did . . . Did anyone see me?" she asked softly.

"I . . ." He paused, realizing that this was greatly troubling her. "I don't think so," he responded hastily, hoping to assuage her fears. "I don't think anyone could see much of anything in the chaos. Everyone is probably just grateful to be alive. I doubt they'll question how it happened. And even if they do, I'll come up with some sort of explanation."

Her anxiety faded away as she nodded. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," he corrected. "If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I could have saved everybody. Hell, I wouldn't have even been there to save anyone else."

Her gaze travelled to the outline of the sinking ship in the distance, then back to him, a look of wonder on her countenance. "You managed to swim all the way back here while holding me?"

He shrugged once more, unsure of how else to respond. "It wasn't as hard as you might think. I barely felt you at all, you're so light."

She smiled at him, her radiant expression melting his heart once again. "Now it is my turn to say 'thank you,' I suppose."

He felt his heart skip a beat as she wrapped her fin around his waist, the warmth of her tail radiating across the bare skin of the small of his back. _Come on, you idiot! She nearly died tonight! You _have _to tell her!_

Inhaling, he looked at her, working up the courage to speak what was in his heart. "Ariel, I . . . I want to tell you something. No, I _need _to tell you something. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand but I . . ." He cursed himself under his breath as she looked at him in confusion. "Dammit, why does this have to be so hard?" he muttered.

"I love you."

It was his turn to look at her in confusion, not certain he had heard her correctly. "I, um, I mean, wait a minute . . . What did you just say?"

She threw back her head, her warm laugh joining the smooth sound of the rising and falling tide. Her expression became serious once more as she leaned in toward him. "_Luvánate,_ Eric,_" _she said softly, her fingertips resting upon his chest, right over his beating heart. "I love you, Eric."

His mind began to race, his lips barely able to form coherent words. "I . . . I mean . . . Ariel, do you know what you're, um, saying? I mean, I—"

His words faded away abruptly as she pressed her lips to his own, her warmth merging with his own. Time lost all meaning to the two of them as they wrapped their arms around each other, his legs losing all feeling, the soft skin of her fins brushing against his toes. Finally, after what felt to each of them like hours, they pulled away, unable to look anywhere but upon each other's eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him in her familiar, quizzical expression. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

He felt his shoulders rise and fall as he fought to force air into his lungs. "I . . . Wow. I mean . . ." He ran his hand through her flowing red locks, his fingers coming to rest upon her cheek. "I love you, Ariel."

"And I you, Eric," she responded, moving back toward him once more, the two resuming their kiss, holding each other even tighter as the moon above kept silent vigil over their forms.

Breaking away yet again, they sat in silence, not knowing what to say, words in either language woefully inadequate to express their feelings for each other.

Glancing up at the moon, she shivered at the cool breeze washing in from the sea. "I . . . I had better go home," she said. "My father . . . I need to—"

"Ariel."

Turning back to him, she smiled as he lay upon the beach, his arm patting the white sand beside him.

"Stay with me," he said softly, his voice tinged with hope. "Just . . . Just for a little while longer. I almost lost you tonight, and I . . . I don't want you to go just yet."

Torn between the call of the sea and the expectant gaze of her love, she frowned, a struggle waging within her spirit over just what she should do. Her mind made up, she crawled across the sand, her back resting upon his outstretched arm as he took her into his grasp.

As they lay in the pale moonlight, the warmth of their bodies fighting off the coolness of the breeze, she felt her eyes fall shut, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling her to sleep. _This is so right, _she thought to herself as darkness came upon her, her usual fear of being discovered nonexistent as she placed all her trust in the human next to her. _If only this night could last forever . . ._

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes, squinting as the sun nearly blinded him with the brilliance of its rays. Recalling the events of the previous night, he looked to his side, frowning as he saw she had already gone, a thin trail formed upon the sand where she had pulled herself into the water. Sitting up, he cried out softly as he felt something fall from his chest.<p>

Looking to his side, he noticed a small, shimmering object. Picking it up in his hand, his eyes grew wide as he marveled at the treasure she had left him. It was a seashell of purest blue—the same shade, he noted, as her eyes. The smooth texture was finer than any seashell he had ever laid eyes upon before, as if it had been crafted in a single, continuous stroke by a master craftsman, rather than formed through some chance process.

Lifting the shell before his face, he frowned as he swore he could hear a faint sound emanating from it. Shaking his head, he brought the shell to his ear to listen. _It's probably just what they say: You can hear the ocean in a seashell if you really—_

His breath caught in his throat as he realized just what he was hearing. The shell pressed firmly against his ear, he heard a voice—_her _voice: warm, filled with care and all the ephemeral qualities that made her . . . _her._

The voice was singing her familiar melody, the beautiful tune rising and falling in time with his pulse. Transfixed, he held the priceless object to his ear, not caring a whit how much time had passed. The melody concluded, he moved to lower the shell from his ear, his gaze turning toward the palace in the distance, realizing that his father must be worried sick about him when—

Her voice returned once more in the shell, a single sentence ringing in his ear yet more powerful than her entire song. _"_Luvánate,_ Eric," _the shell whispered to him, her voice tinged with the passion and emotion he had felt from her when she had first whispered those words to him the night before.

Clutching the shell to his heart, he stood motionless for several moments before beginning his trek back to the palace. His eyes cast upon the sea, he smiled, his spirit filled with a tranquility unlike any he had ever felt before.

"_Luvánate, _Ariel," he whispered back, silently contemplating the meaning of those words as he curled his toes in the soft sand of the beach. "_Luvánate _. . ."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I couldn't be happier with the positive response this story is receiving. Hopefully, I can continue to meet the expectations of those of you who are enjoying it. More to come!<strong>


	6. Stanza VI

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza VI**

* * *

><p><em>For now that their love was no longer concealed<br>__Their happiness only increased.  
><em>_And they loved with a love both precious and rare,  
><em>_The man and the daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>She was not there when he made his regular visit to the cluster of rocks the next morning, nor did she appear during the following fortnight. His morning trips to the beach brought renewed hope each day, only for that hope to be dashed upon his realization that she was absent once again. What had started as mild disappointment for him was quickly beginning to turn into full-fledged worry. Part of him wanted desperately to commandeer one of the vessel's in his father's fleet and scour the ocean, not returning until he found some trace of to where she had disappeared. But the rational portion of his mind recognized that the idea was ludicrous upon its face. Wherever she was, he reminded himself, it was far below the surface of the waters, far deeper than any man could travel and still survive.<p>

His attention was soon consumed by the affairs of state that he had reluctantly been forced to take an increased role in deciding. His father's health had been in steady decline since the incident with the fireworks. The physicians suspected the king had suffered a mild heart attack and had ordered him to reduce his stress level effective immediately. Consequently, his son had found himself obligated to spend his time in endless meetings in which the most mundane of affairs would be discussed while the king was at rest. Eric did not protest; on the contrary, he presented a public attitude of willing acquiescence to his father's needs, as any dutiful son in his position would. But the new demands thrust upon him coupled with his newfound status as the hero who had saved countless guests from drowning in the aftermath of the accident found leisure time severely curtailed.

And yet, he insisted upon maintaining his daily walk along the beach, each day hoping against hope that she would be there, her smile greeting him as he raced to hold her in his arms. But as days turned into weeks with no sign of her, he began to wonder if he had in some way offended her with his declaration of love, if he had somehow violated some unspoken custom of her people, or if something had been lost in translation, that she did truly not return his affection. The prince was stubborn, however, for every night he would press the blue seashell to his ear, listening to her voice as she sang her wordless song to him, dispelling any doubt that lingered in his mind.

Finally, on a cold December morning, he heard her call out to him as he passed the rock cluster. His feet racing faster than he thought possible, he flew to the edge of the beach, kneeling to kiss her as deeply as he could, not caring that his boots and trousers were now drenched in cold water. Nothing else mattered to him as she returned his kiss, her lips warm despite the frigidness of the sea around her, her fingers soft and warm upon his cheek.

The tension broken, the two held each other tightly as they sat upon the sand, the gray clouds above shrouding the proceedings in shadow.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "I've been so worried about you! I thought that . . . that something had happened to you. I didn't know what to do . . ."

She hung her head in remorse, her fin twitching uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry, Eric," she said, her voice low. "I didn't mean to make you worry. But I couldn't get away. Not after what happened after last time . . ."

He looked at her with worry. "What do you mean? What happened?"

She glanced away, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "My father. He . . . He wanted to know why I was gone all night. I . . . I didn't know what to tell him, so I made up a lie about how I was exploring and lost track of time. He didn't believe me, I could tell. So he . . . he sent one of his guards to escort me everywhere for the past few weeks." She shook her head, a look of anger upon her face. "I am not a _véldengaia _anymore. I'm not a child. I have seen 20 cycles."

He studied her face, realizing he had never asked her about her age before. "You're . . . You're twenty?" A laugh escaped from his throat. "If you were human, you would be considered an adult, free to do whatever you wish."

His comment only made her angrier. "As I should be with my people. But because I am the youngest of seven sisters, my father thinks I need extra protection. That I am not able to make my own decisions."

He gently draped his arm around her shoulder. "That's what fathers do, Ariel," he offered, doing his best to improve the situation. "They worry about their children. Sometimes, like mine, a little too much."

She looked into his eyes, a look of shame falling across her face. "I'm sorry, Eric. We shouldn't be talking about this. Not when it has been so long since we've seen each other."

She extended her arms, holding them out to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her lithe form, resting her upon his lap, her fin extending out into the water. In silence, the two watched as the tide of the sea rolled in and out, its foam gliding effortlessly onto the sand, then retreating to its home.

She inhaled deeply, looking over her shoulder at him. "Isn't it beautiful, Eric?" she whispered softly.

"Yes, it is," he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You love it, don't you?"

She turned, a quizzical expression on her face. "Of course I do," she said. "It's my home." Frowning, she touched his cheek. "Do you not feel the same about your homeland?"

His eyes darkened, his expression becoming morose. "Not really," he confessed. "Don't get me wrong. I love my father and everything he has done for me. But . . ." He grimaced, trying to find words to express what he was trying to say. "I've never really felt much attachment to other people. I've always sort of been a loner."

She raised an eyebrow. "A 'loan-nur'? What is a 'loan-nur'?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "A loner is someone who has a hard time connecting with others. Who would rather be by themselves than in a social setting."

It was her turn to laugh. "You? You have a hard time with other people? I find that hard to believe. You always seem so comfortable with me."

He frowned. "But you're . . . you're _you, _Ariel. You don't judge me. You don't expect me to act a certain way just because I'm a prince. And you've never lied to me. Ever."

Her expression softened as she recognized the pain in his eyes. Turning around, her sinuous tail wrapping around his waist once more, she kissed his brow, her hand delicately stroking his cheek. "You have a reason to dislike other people, don't you?" she whispered.

"I guess," he confessed, his eyes closing at her touch. "The human world isn't as beautiful as you think, Ariel. I'm afraid it's nothing like the stories you may have read in the shipwrecks you've explored. There are good people, but it's getting harder and harder to be one when you see just how cruel those around you can be." He opened his eyes, cursing himself for his self-centered behavior. "I'm sorry. I'm acting like a spoiled child here. Are you sure you still . . . I mean, you still love me after all of this?"

Her smile became warm once more. "Oh, _luvánathem,_" she murmured, her arms wrapping around his neck. "My dearest one . . . Of course I love you. Always. Always."

They held each other once again, lost in their love for each other, until she cried out in surprise and confusion. Opening her eyes, she looked about, her eyes squinting as she felt small flecks of coldness touch her skin. "What . . . What is this?" she inquired, staring at the white fragments falling from above. "This isn't rain! Is the . . . Are the clouds falling apart?"

He could not contain his laughter. "No," he said, wincing as she playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Then what is it?" she demanded. "What are these cold things?"

He stretched out his hand, catching some of the floating specks upon his palm. "It's called 'snow,' Ariel. It's like cold rain. When it gets to be cold out, it snows instead of rains. Does that make sense?"

"Snow . . ." She allowed the word to roll off her tongue, transfixed by her new discovery. She giggled as several snowflakes fell upon her tail, her fin flicking involuntarily at the sensation. "I . . . I think I like it!"

His own good mood returned at the sight of her wide-eyed innocence. "I haven't shown you the best part," he said, pulling her face next to his own. "Stick out your tongue."

She glared at him. "Why? What sort of strange human custom is this?"

"Just try it!" he insisted, demonstrating by sticking his own tongue out. "Luhk thes!"

Her eyebrow raised, she reluctantly stuck out her tongue, arms folded as she waited expectantly for something to happen. "Am I dohing it rught? Nuthing es hahpening, Ahrick—"

A squeal leapt from her throat as a snowflake fell upon her tongue, the foreign sensation causing her to jump from his lap, her form landing upon the sand. "What was that?"

He smiled widely. "You caught a snowflake on your tongue."

She frowned. "Why do humans do this? Does eating snow make you healthy? Is it some kind of food?"

"No," he said, laughing. "We just do it for fun, I guess."

"Fun?" A mischievous grin appeared upon her face. "So . . . It's like a game?"

"Exactly," he confirmed. "Whoever catches the most snowflakes on their tongue wins."

"Really?" Her smile grew even wider as she thrust her tongue out again. "Leht's get stahrted then!"

* * *

><p>Now that she was no longer burdened by her father's assigned sentry, she was able to resume her daily ritual of visiting him upon the beach. Despite his busy schedule, despite the whispers that he was shirking his royal duties, he continued to make her his first priority. The two grew even more close over the ensuing weeks, unable to fathom a time when they had not been together.<p>

As Christmas Day drew near, he began to wonder what he should get her for Christmas. _Do her people even celebrate Christmas or some holiday like it? _he wondered. _Should I even get her anything at all?_

_ Of course you should! _his mind retorted. _You love her, don't you? Get her something that will show just how much you love her, you idiot!_

_ But what? _he countered, realizing that he was running out of time to acquire something worthy of her. _What could I possibly get her, besides . . ._

As if a light came on in his mind, he realized there was only one option for what he should give her. Walking toward the chest he kept beneath his bed, he opened it, digging through the many gifts she had given him, searching for the small box his mother had given him before she had passed away.

_It is very precious, Eric._

His beloved mother's voice rang in his mind as he recalled what she had said to him as she had handed the box to him.

_I know, Mother, _he had responded. _I know how much it means to you._

She had smiled sadly as he took the box from her hand, a spasm of coughing momentarily preventing her from speaking. She had taken the glass of water he had offered her, drinking it slowly until she was able to speak once more.

_I . . . mean it, Eric, _she had insisted. _Promise me . . . Promise me you will give it only to . . ._

_ I promise, Mother, _he had whispered, stroking her hand as she fell into a much-needed sleep. _I promise . . ._

His mind returning to the present, he located the box in the bottom right corner of the chest. Withdrawing it, he opened it, confirming that its contents were still present, still as beautiful as ever. Satisfied, he placed the small box in his pocket, exhaling deeply as he prepared for his morning excursion.

_I meant what I said, Mother, _he thought to himself as he made his way toward the rear door of the palace, careful not to wake anyone still slumbering in the small hours of the morning. _I will not disappoint you . . ._

* * *

><p>She noticed something was different about him as he approached her on the beach that morning. His gait was markedly more deliberate than usual, his expression troubled, as if preoccupied, as he made his way toward her.<p>

"Good morning!" she called out, waving to him as a light snow fell about, hoping her voice would be enough to break whatever sense of gloom had descended upon him.

As he helped her from the water, she could sense that he was still troubled by something. "Look, Eric," she said, trying her best to make him happy. "It's snowing again. Isn't that nice?" Realizing he was still distracted, she frowned. "What's the matter? Are you feeling all right?"

"I . . . I'm fine," he insisted, shaking his head. "I just . . . I mean . . . Oh, damn . . ."

She cupped his chin in her hand, planting a light kiss on his lips. "Please tell me. You don't have to hide anything from me."

Nodding, he took her free hand, sighing deeply as he fought to form the words he had practiced all night. "Ariel, today is . . . Today is an important human holiday. Today is Christmas."

She looked at him curiously. "'Chriss-mass'? What happens on 'Chriss-mass'?"

He cleared his throat, hoping he could keep his nerve. "Well, it's a time when family gathers together and we celebrate the ones we love by giving them gifts."

"Gifts?" She frowned. "Oh, Eric, why didn't you tell me sooner? I didn't bring you anything special! I'm sorry—"

"Don't be."

He reached his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the small box. "I didn't want you to get me anything, Ariel. I just wanted to have you here with me. That's the only gift I need. But, I . . ." He swallowed. "I did get something for you."

Offering her the box, his felt his face burn as she looked at it.

"Oh, Eric!" she exclaimed as she studied the box. "I love it! It's so beautiful—"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's not . . . I mean, the box isn't the present! It's what's _inside _the box that . . . I mean . . ."

Now thoroughly confounded, so nervous he could barely speak, he lifted the lid off the box, setting it gently on the sand next to them. "Here, Ariel. This is . . . This is for you."

He heard her breath catch in her throat as she looked inside the box, her hand shaking as she withdrew its contents. "Eric," she whispered as she held the diamond ring in her hand, the gem sparkling in the morning light. "Eric, it's beautiful!"

"Do . . . Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly.

"I do!" she cried out. "But . . . But what do I do with it?"

He laughed, his nervousness fading away as he took hold of her hand. "Here," he said. "You wear it on your finger. Like this."

Her eyes grew wide as he slid the ring onto her finger, the ring somehow fitting her hand perfectly. Raising her hand before her eyes, she smiled wider than he had ever seen before. "Oh, Eric, I love it! It's so . . . _ethéleven_!"

"I . . . I wanted to give it to you," he said. "It was my mother's. Before she died, I promised her I would give it to someone . . ." He paused, forcing himself to finish his well-rehearsed lines. "To someone very special to me."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with worry. "This . . . This was your mother's?" She moved to remove the ring. "Eric, I can't take this! I couldn't possibly—"

"No," he said, taking hold of her hand, preventing her from taking the ring from her hand. "No, Ariel. I want you to have it. You mean . . . You mean that much to me. I want to show you just how much I love you."

Looking him in the eyes, she frowned momentarily, as if thinking to herself, before nodding affirmatively. "All right," she whispered, looking once more at the beautiful ring. "If . . . If you want to give it to me, I . . . I accept. But . . ."

It was his turn to frown as she looked away toward the sea. "Ariel? What's the matter?"  
>"Nothing," she responded, not looking at him. "It's just . . . Are we <em>sénathema <em>now?"

The word was one he had never heard her use before. "Are . . . Are we what?" he asked, confused.

She turned back to him, her eyes wide with anticipation. "For my people, when a male gives a _véldenmaína _a ring, that means he has chosen her to be his _sénathema. _I mean, his . . . his . . . oh, what is the word . . .?"

Understanding fell upon him at once. "His . . . mate?" he offered as he realized the implications of his action.

She nodded uncertainly. "That's right. So, does that mean we are now . . .?"

_This is crazy! _the rational part of his mind screamed at him. _You can't be with her forever! This was just supposed to be a short-term thing! You are two different species for crying out loud! It could never work! Ever!_

In that moment, he chose to ignore the rational voice, choosing to go with what his heart was telling him. "Yes," he said, pulling her close. "Yes, Ariel. I . . . I want you to . . . I mean, what I should say is, will you—"

"Yes."

She answered without hesitation, her eyes filled with happiness. "I . . . I had hoped you would choose me," she confessed, her tailfin stroking his leg. "I know it shouldn't work. I know my father will not be happy, but . . ."

Sitting tall, she kissed him deeply, her arms wrapped around his back as she held him in her embrace.

"None of that matters," he whispered in her ear, happier than he had ever been in his life. "We can think about all of that later. For now, let's just be together."

"Like . . ." She stroked his hair lovingly. "Like we will always be?"

"Yes," he responded, smiling, gently turning her to look toward the sun that had broken through the cloudy sky.

"Happy 'Chriss-mass,' Eric," she whispered as she leaned back into his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head, his lips lost amidst her swath of red hair. "Happy Christmas, Ariel."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Something special for the Christmas season. I hope you enjoyed it! More to come!<strong>


	7. Stanza VII

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza VII**

* * *

><p><em>They cared not a whit for what others may think,<br>__For their happiness was all they could see.  
><em>_Thus married they were, their two souls joined as one,  
><em>_The man and his daughter of the sea._

* * *

><p>The arrival of January and the bitter cold that accompanied the changing of the calendar brought with it a cruel impediment to their developing relationship. Tears in her eyes, she explained to him that it was now increasingly difficult for her to venture toward the beach, as the winter weather brought forth changes in the sea's ebb and flow that made it dangerous for her to leave the sanctuary of her home beneath the waves. Regretfully, bitterly, they parted, their hearts close to breaking as she swam below the surface while he looked on, the dark clouds above a perfect reflection of the misery enfolding their spirits, the two unlikely lovers swearing they would see each other again when the warm air of spring descended upon the waters.<p>

His time was soon fully consumed by his royal duties, his responsibilities seemingly increasing by the day as his father continued his recovery. The royal physicians were now cautiously optimistic that the king could fully take command of his throne within a matter of weeks, but for the time being, the prince, reluctant as he was, continued to manage the affairs of state to the best of his ability. His advisers insisted that he was becoming more and more confident, more and more kinglike by the day, their voices dripping with praise over his decisions regarding treaties and tariffs. Yet all the praise in the world could not assuage the ache that consumed the prince's spirit, his mind questioning whether those within his government truly meant what they were saying, or if they were merely trying to worm their way into his good graces by feeding him their sycophantic words. Not a day went by during those long, cold days that the prince did not look repeatedly out the window of his father's study, his gaze drawn torn the waves crashing upon the ocean, his eyes searching in vain for the faintest glimpse of long red hair set against pale white skin amidst the surging waters.

But by far, the worst time of day was night, for in the darkness of his bedchamber, the winter wind howling against his window, he would descend into fitful slumber, his unconscious mind conjuring horrible images of what might be happening to her during their separation. Night after night he would wake in a panic, sweat dripping from his brow, as the same nightmare played itself out again and again. He would hear her voice screaming his name as some invisible terror took hold of her, dragging her to the inky blackness at the furthest depths of the sea as she begged him to save her. His own voice would screaming back at her as he fought with all his might to swim to her aid, invisible bonds preventing him from helping her, her eyes of purest blue filled with horror as she disappeared from his sight. In this manner, sleep eluded him over the course of those seemingly endless weeks, his frazzled mind not knowing how much longer he could endure her absence from his life.

Finally, as February faded into March, as the snow melted from upon the grounds of the kingdom, he felt the darkness begin to lift from his spirit. Each morning, at the first rays of dawn, he resumed his ritual walk along the beach, the winds becoming warmer with each passing day as he searched for her in their secluded hideaway among the rocks. Then, one morning, she was there, her smile greeting him as he rushed to lift her from the water, not releasing his hold on her until her was absolutely certain that she was there and not some figment of his imagination.

His eyes fell upon her hand as he set her gently upon the sand. "You . . . You're still wearing it."

She glanced down at the ring upon her finger before looking back up at him. "Of course I am," she replied. "Although I have to hide it when my father is nearby." A sad expression crossed her face. "I . . . I don't want to, but I . . . I know what will happen if he finds out about . . . us."

Sighing, she leaned into him, her shoulders resting upon his chest, her fluke stretched luxuriously upon the sand. "Why?" she whispered softly. "Why can't we just be together without having to hide? Why couldn't I have been born a human? It would have made things so much easier . . ."

He shook his head as he kissed her cheek. "Why couldn't I have been born in the sea?" Tenderly, he stroked her hand, his fingers coming to rest upon the ring on her hand. "We are what we are, Ariel," he said softly. "And nothing can change that." His other hand glided along the smooth scales of her fluke. "I would never want you to change. But . . ." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But, that doesn't mean we can't be together."

She shifted, turning her body so she was facing him, a quizzical expression upon her face. "I . . . I don't understand."

He looked at her intently. "Do you still want me, Ariel? Did you mean what you said about wanting us to be . . ." He paused, making certain she was following him. "About wanting us to be _sénathema_?"

She pulled back, hurt. "Of course I do!"

He smiled. "Good. Because I have been thinking about this all winter. I . . ." He breathed deeply, the warm air filling his nostrils, carrying the salty scent of her hair along with it. "I _need _you, Ariel. I need to have you in my life. Always." He cupped her face in his hands. "Will you . . . Will you marry me, Ariel?"

She started, caught by surprise. "Does . . . Does that mean what I think it means?"

"I think it does," he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited her response.

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. "I . . . I want to, Eric. But you . . . You will be king someday, Eric. How can you marry . . . I don't think your people will—"

"I don't care," he said, his hands enfolding about her waist. "I've spent my entire life trying to do what is expected of me, what will make other people happy. I've tried to be the good son, the good prince, the one who always does the right thing." He cleared his throat as a wave of anger briefly came over him. "And for what? When do I get to be happy? Why should I have to deny myself a life with the woman I love just because she . . ." He shook his head. "That ends now. If we love each other, that is enough. Whether other people approve or not, I don't care."

He paused, looking deeply into her eyes. "All I know is that I love you, Ariel, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. No matter what happens, nothing will ever change that. So . . ." He swallowed, his stomach knotted in expectation. "Will you have me, Ariel? Will you be my—"

His words were cut off as she threw her arms about his shoulders, her lips upon his own as she kissed him passionately. Finally pulling away, she smiled. "Does that answer your question?"

He laughed. "Yes, it does, Ariel. Yes, it does."

She frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "But . . . But who would possibly marry us? How can you—"

He took her hand reassuringly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Leave that to me."

* * *

><p>"I must say, young man, this is most unorthodox!"<p>

The elderly priest clung tightly to the prince's arm, his frail legs moving cautiously across the expanse of sand before him as the two made their way across the beach, the orange and purple hues of the setting sun bathing the proceedings in an ethereal glow.

The prince patted the reverend's arm, thankful he had been able to locate the aged minister, that he had been able to convince him to officiate the ceremony without having to disclose his identity. "I understand, Father, and I am very, very grateful that you were willing to do this for us."

The priest squinted, his fading eyesight able to make out little more than what was directly before him. "Tell me again why we cannot do this in the church," he inquired as they continued their journey. "Do you realize just how many laws of the church I am bending to have administer this sacrament on such short notice and outside a house of the Lord?"

The prince was prepared with a convenient half-truth. "I understand, Father. But the situation is complicated. My bride is . . . unable to travel far enough inland to—"

The priest nodded vigorously. "I am sorry to hear that, my son. I will pray for her timely recovery of whatever grieves her." He paused, squinting at the prince in a vain effort to distinguish the young man's features. The prince held his breath expectantly, fearing his identity had been compromised, that the priest would refuse to perform the ritual and, worse, inform his father just what he had attempted.

But the moment passed quickly, the priest turning away as he focused his attention on trying to see where he was going. "Anyway, I trust that you and the girl, whoever she is, are entering into this sacrament of your own volition? Because I absolutely refuse to marry anyone who is being coerced . . ."

The prince smiled as they approached the rock cluster. "No, Father. I can assure you: Everything is fine." _Except for the fact that no one else has any clue this is happening. Yeah, Eric. Everything is just peachy . . ._

Swallowing, the prince escorted the priest into the rock cluster. "Here, Father. Wait here while I finish getting things ready."

Having seen the priest to the chair he had brought down to the beach, the prince cast his gaze toward the water, his stomach twisting itself into knots as he looked for any sign of her. "Where are you?" he whispered to himself, his arms folded as he continued his search.

As if on cue, a voice sounded from the water. "I . . . I'm here."

The prince and the priest turned toward the source of the voice, the priest through his myopia seeing nothing but a vague outline of long red hair. The prince, on the contrary, felt his jaw drop involuntarily as he beheld the sight before him.

She had eased herself out of the ocean, the scales of her fluke shimmering like precious jewels, water droplets dotting her limb in small, glistening beads. An orange and pink flower of some underwater species he had never seen before was nestled between the flowing tresses of her fiery hair. A long, elaborate necklace constructed of numerous seashells hung from her neck, the bright colors made all the more beautiful in the warm light of the setting sun. In that moment, he was certain she had never looked more beautiful.

She smiled warmly at as she looked up at him. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Finding his voice once more, he knelt beside her. "Don't be."

Her cheeks turned red as she ran a hand over her necklace. "This is the traditional _sénathedra _attire of a _véldenmaína._ Do . . . Do you like it?"

He carefully lifted her from the sand, her tailfin resting aside his leg. "I love it," he whispered in her ear as he carried her before the half-blind priest.

The priest cleared his throat as he squinted into the prayer book he had brought with him, his ailing eyes barely able to make out the text upon the pages. "Well, then. If everything is in order, I suppose we can begin."

The entire ceremony passed by in a blur for the prince. He could recall responding "I do" to the priest's questions, but his attention was focused entirely upon the beautiful sea-maiden in his arms, the sea-maiden who was now his wife. All he knew was that at the moment the intimate ceremony reached its conclusion, he kissed her as he had never kissed her before, losing himself in her beautiful, never-ending smile.

* * *

><p>She sat upon the beach as the sun began to sink behind a distant cloud, her gaze focused upon the ring on her finger, the precious diamond sparkling in the glowing light of the sunset. Her other hand made its way across the seashells suspended from her neck, the only outward sign that something life-altering had just occurred. <em>Nun sédave flundavin, <em>she mused as she leaned back, the soft sand coming into contact with the pale skin of her back, her eyes closing as she rested upon the shore. _Nothing will ever be the same again. Everything has changed._

"Is everything okay?"

She opened her eyes, smiling as she saw her love—her _husband_—kneeling next to her, the prince having just returned from escorting the priest back to his home. "It is now," she responded, her hand moving to his neck as she pulled his face toward her own, their lips meeting once more. "You don't think so?"

He lay next to her, her head coming to rest upon his chest, the steady pulse of his heartbeat sounding in her ear. "No, I do," he corrected as he stroked her hair. "Everything is perfect."

She frowned as she sensed something was troubling him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said with a sigh. "I just . . . I don't ever want to be away from you again."

She pressed her lips to his cheek, her fin curling around his leg. "You are stuck with me now, Eric," she said with a soft laugh. "I am not going away that easily."

Seeing the distress still visible upon his face, she pulled herself onto her hands, shifting her form until she was perched over him. "Here," she whispered. "Let me show you what my people do once they are _sénathema._"

His eyes widened as she began placing soft, delicate kisses upon his neck, his heart rate quickening at the strangely pleasant sensation. "What . . . What are you doing?"

She pulled away, a hurt expression upon her face. "I . . . I'm sorry," she apologized. "I thought . . . I thought you would want to . . ."

He shook his head in confusion. "No, it's not that!" he insisted. "Of course I want to! But I . . . I guess I never even thought about . . ." His brow furrowed in confusion. "Can we even, you know . . . a human and a _véldenmaína_ . . .?"

Her smile returned to her face as she laughed warmly at his confusion. "Yes, we can," she said. "I have heard many stories of _véldenmaíana _who have become one with a human male. It has become something of a rite of passage for those of my people who do not treasure the value of their maidenhood. So, yes, Eric. It is possible."

He glanced toward her waist involuntarily, his gaze falling upon the beautifully alluring area where skin met scales. "But have you . . . Have _you _ever—"

"No," she said quietly as she sat upon his legs, her hands reaching behind her to unclasp the string holding the seashells atop her breasts in place. Her eyes wide, she tossed the garment aside, her naked form on display before him. She shivered involuntarily as she suddenly felt self-conscious, a sense of trepidation descending upon her as her husband stared at her, an uncomfortable silence filling the air. "Do . . . Don't you want me, Eric?"

Her question was answered by his sudden move to pull her to the sand, his body lying atop hers as he began kissing her throat, his lips moving down toward her breasts. She shuddered as feelings she had never experienced before came over her, her hips beginning to move up and down of their own accord. Dimly, she sensed that his legs were now naked, that he had removed his trousers, that he suddenly felt warmer than he had ever felt before as a wave of indescribable pleasure tore through her, her fin flicking back and forth, faster and faster, as she lost herself in the bliss of this new experience.

As husband and wife melded together upon the soft sand of the beach, their soft cries of passion blended with the omnipresent sound of the rising and falling tide. Finally, exhausted, the two fell into each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies and the gentle pulse of the waves lulling them to sleep, not caring for anything in that moment other than savoring the prospects of somehow—someway—shaping a life together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	8. Stanza VIII

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza VIII**

* * *

><p><em>Their love was now stronger than ever before<em>  
><em>As they dreamt of the life that could be.<em>  
><em>But fate can be cruel to the most loving of souls, <em>  
><em>Even the man and his daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>For the first time in his life, he could honestly say to himself that he was truly happy.<p>

Their first precious weeks of married life were surrounded with an ineffable sense of exhilaration. To the consternation of his advisers, he would disappear for hours at a time, only to reappear hours later, his attention obviously preoccupied as the exasperated officials began to speculate behind his back, their suspicions growing by the day that he had taken a lover somewhere in the village, that the heir to the throne was on the verge of causing a scandal. None of them were brave—or foolish—enough to confront the prince on the matter, lest they jeopardize their political futures, the allure of the increased power and authority they hoped would be theirs upon the prince's assumption of the throne causing them to turn a blind eye to whatever indiscretions he may be committing.

The prince heard the whispers that floated down the corridors of the palace when they thought he was out of earshot; he took a strange sort of delight in hearing their idle speculation, laughing to himself as he contemplated just how incorrect they were. His resentment toward their hypocrisy, their sense of entitlement did little to assuage his growing sense of disillusionment toward the governing position that would one day be his and his alone. The thought of spending the rest of his life trapped within the walls of the palace, forced to interact with those who cared for nothing but their own power with little regard for those they had been entrusted to serve was becoming harder and harder to bear.

_It's only for a little while longer, _he would remind himself as March faded into April. _Soon, Father will be well enough to take control once more. And then . . . Then, we will finally be . . . We will finally be free!_

* * *

><p>She frowned as she cupped his chin, her eyes filled with concern as she lay next to him in the early morning light. "What is it, <em>luvánathem<em>?" she asked. "What's troubling you?"

He laughed to himself as he looked at her, an exasperated sigh departing from his lips. "Am I that transparent? And here I thought I was pretty good at being inscrutable."

Her eyebrow raised itself as her face took on her familiar expression that told him she could see right through him. "Maybe to those awful men you've told me about," she answered as she sat up above him. "But not to me. I know you too well."

"You've got me there," he conceded, his stress expressing itself in the wrinkles forming upon his brow. He glanced toward the direction of the palace, the towering edifice visible in the distance beyond their secluded meeting place. "I just . . . I'm ready for Father to be back on his feet again. I've had it with these advisers of his, if you can even call them advisers. It's always 'Yes, Your Highness,' or 'Oh, excellent idea, Your Highness,' or 'Such brilliance, Your Highness' . . ." He rubbed his exhausted eyes. "I swear, I could decide to declare war upon our closest allies and they would tell me I was making a brilliant move."

She leaned forward, kissing his cheek as she tried her best to alleviate his anxiety. "So strange," she mused, resting her head upon his chest. "Why does your father keep such hateful men in his service? Is that something all human rulers do?"

He lightly ran his fingers through her hair, his ears filling with the soothing, dulcet tones of the omnipresent tide. "It is if you're clever," he responded. "Like it or not, these men are not stupid. They each happen to have their own unique skills that can serve the kingdom well. That, coupled with the fact that they are from very well-connected families, families that have given countless amounts of land and treasure in service of the kingdom over the centuries and . . ."

She brought a finger to his lips, his words trailing away as the softness of her skin met his own. "Soon," she whispered in his ear. "Soon, it will not be your responsibility any longer."

He nodded, the truth of her words settling upon him. "I know. And I'm sorry I even . . . I shouldn't be wasting our time together talking about things like this. Not when we have such limited—"

She sat up suddenly, a mischievous expression upon her face. Taking his hand, she pulled him to a sitting position. "Here," she said, her eyes sparkling as he had never seen before. "I want to show you something."

He frowned as she pulled herself across the sand into the waters of the ocean. "Ariel, you know I can't swim like you can. And I can't breathe—"

She splashed his feet, looking up at him playfully. "Trust me," she said. "Everything will be just fine."

He looked intently at his wife, contemplating the course of action he should pursue. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, he removed his shirt, tossing it next to his boots as he strode into the water next to her. "All right, Ariel. I'll bite. What is it you want to show me?"  
>She laughed as she tugged at his leg, forcing him deeper into the water. "It's a surprise," she whispered. "Take a deep breath and hold my hand."<p>

Cautiously, he stepped further into the water until his neck was just above the surface, his mind caught by surprise at just how warm it was. Taking her hand, he inhaled. "I'm ready."

The next thing he knew, he was pulled beneath the waves, her powerful fin propelling them far below the surface. His eyes struggled to make sense of where they were going, but the combination of the speed at which they were travelling and the unpleasant sensation of salt water upon his pupils caused the world around him to become a hazy blur. Faster and faster she swam, his legs feebly attempting to do their part as he felt the two of them pass through some sort of darkened tunnel before moving up once more, the surface growing closer by the second until, just when he thought he could hold his breath no longer, they broke through the water, precious air flowing into his lungs.

She clutched his arm tightly, her voice tinged with worry. "Eric! Eric, are you all right?"

Coughing, he wiped the water and his own hair from his eyes as he looked at her, his eyesight coming back into focus once more. "I'm fine," he said as he treaded water next to her. "Where . . . Where are we?"

Her smile returned to her lips once more as she took hold of his shoulders, gently turning him about. "See for yourself," she whispered in his ear.

His eyes grew wide as he gazed upon the sight before him. They had surfaced in a cavern nestled within the confines of the ocean itself, a byproduct of millennia of water flowing against rock. The rocky walls of the cavern shone with an ethereal, pulsating light, as if the rock itself was generating its own illumination. Peppering the walls, arrayed in every color of the rainbow, were countless crystal formations that sparkled in the chamber's golden hues.

Stunned, he turned to her, not knowing what to say. "This . . . This is . . . Um, I mean . . . _Wow _. . ."

"Do . . . Do you like it?" she asked eagerly as she clasped his hand once more.

"Do I like it?" he repeated. "I . . . I _love _it!" he exclaimed as he swam toward a platform on the far side of the cavern. Pulling himself out of the water, he stood, running his hand over the crystals protruding from the wall, amazed at just how delicate they felt beneath his fingertips. He whirled about excitedly as the sea-maiden pulled herself from the water to sit next to him, her emerald fluke glistening in the strange yet warm light. "What is this place?"

She blushed noticeably, her hands folded together. "This is my special place. It's where I go when I want to be alone. When I want to get away from my sisters or my father and just be . . ." She paused as she struggled to find the human word she was searching for. "When I want to be a 'loan-er'."

He sat next to her, taking great care not to touch any of the crystals upon the platform for fear of desecrating a place that was obviously very special to her. "It's beautiful," he said, the word ringing hollow as he realized that it was not nearly magnificent enough a term to describe the sight before him.

She nodded. "This is where I came after . . . after I met you the first time. I was scared and curious all at the same time. I didn't know if I should go back to the beach to look for you again or if I should stay away." She ran her hand over the smooth rock of the platform, her fin nestled between his legs. "I stayed here for a long time that day, trying to decide what I should do. But then . . ."

She turned away, causing him to frown. "What's the matter?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, it's nothing," she insisted, not looking at him, her hands balled into fists. "It's . . . _De vende thélethora_ . . ."

His hands came to rest on her shoulders. "It's okay," he said. "You can tell me."

She turned back toward him, sighing. "I don't know how to explain, but I . . . I felt this place tell me . . . somehow . . . that I should see you again." Her eyes shifted downward, her face burning once again. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but—"

"No, it doesn't," he said softly as he held her hand. "If you believe something in here guided you, I can believe it too."

She cocked her head. "You're . . . You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not," he insisted as he looked around his wife's beautiful place of refuge. "This place is wonderful, Ariel. Thank you for bringing me here."

She did not return his gaze, her form shifting uncomfortably, as if there was something else she wanted to say but was afraid to do so.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he inquired.

"Yes," she confessed. "I hope you . . . I mean, I wanted to . . . I . . ."

She paused, running a hand through her luxurious hair of flame as she gathered her thoughts. "I was wondering if we could . . . I mean . . ."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Here? You . . . You want to?"

She grimaced at his reaction. "Forget I said anything. I . . . I really should take you back to the surface. You'll need to—"

"Ariel."

She looked deeply into her husband's eyes, her pulse racing as he smiled at her. "This place is very special to me," she said softly. "The ancient texts of my people tell of caverns like this. They say . . . They say that it is good fortune for a couple that has become _sénathema _to . . ."

He looked at her without speaking for a moment, realizing just how perfect she appeared in the light streaming from the walls of rock. He wrapped his arm around her head as he laid her upon the platform, cushioning her as he began to kiss her once more. "You don't have to feel embarrassed," he whispered as he slid his free hand beneath the seashell covering her right breast, his fingers warm upon her skin as he gently caressed her. A smile crossed his lips as a soft moan emitted from her throat, her eyes closing as she relaxed into his touch.

"Really?" she managed to choke out, her voice a throaty whisper as she shuddered with bliss.

"Never," he responded as he kissed her once more, his hand moving to remove his trousers, moving himself into position as he sensed she was ready for him.

"Eric, please," she whimpered, her fin curling up and down repeatedly as she arched her hips upward, offering herself to him. _"Senavetha íldavin . . ."_

He kissed her deeply as he lowered himself into her, suppressing the soft gasp that emanated from her lips. "_Luvánate, _Ariel," he whispered as they began to move as one, their hearts pounding as they were quickly consumed with pleasure, her lips moving ever-so-slightly as she soundlessly cried out his name over and over again. _"Luvánate . . ."_

* * *

><p>An uncomfortable silence greeted him as he entered the palace. He frowned as he wondered just where everyone was, the lack of the typical activity that he had come to expect at midday filling him with a sense of trepidation.<p>

"Hello?" he called out as he made his way toward the throne room. "Where is everybody—"

The door to the throne room opened slowly as several of his advisers greeted him, their eyes downcast.

He felt his heart sink in his chest, not wanting to believe what he was afraid he was about to hear. "What is it?"

One of his advisers stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder in a small gesture of comfort. "Your Highness . . . I'm afraid . . . Your father . . . He . . . I am afraid he . . ."

His head sank as he fell to his knees, his hand covering his eyes as the unwelcome news washed over him. Looking up, his gaze fell upon the throne at the far end of the room, the chair that now seemed to mock him mercilessly, tormenting him with the realization that everything he had hoped for, the life he had envisioned with her at his side was now gone forever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	9. Stanza IX

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza IX**

* * *

><p><em>But in spite of it all, the ache and the pain<em>  
><em>Could not quell their romance in the least.<em>  
><em>And soon their happiness grew with a blessing bestowed<em>  
><em>On the man and the daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>"Eric?"<p>

She looked from the sandy beach in concern, her face lined with concern as she watched her husband pace about worriedly, his face marred by an exhaustion she had never seen in him before.

"Eric, please," she said softly. "Sit next to me. Let me help you."

The prince did as she said, but joylessly, his demeanor that of a man stretched to his breaking point. "What do you think you can do for me? You can't help," he muttered without thinking, instantly regretting his choice of words. "Ariel, I'm sorry," he apologized, hating himself for his selfish behavior.

The hurt he had caused her was still evident in her eyes as she turned away from him. "I don't know what you want from me," she whispered, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "I am trying my best, but you keep pushing me away."

His sense of shame grew as he cursed himself. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, slowly wrapping his arms around her waist, sighing with relief as she sank into his grasp rather than pulling away. "You have been so supportive, and here I am acting like I'm the only man in the world who's ever had to deal with this."

She shook her head as she leaned back into his chest, her red hair contrasting against the inky blackness of his clothing. "I don't understand why . . . why you are still wearing your mourning attire."

He grimaced at the perfectly logical inquiry. It had, indeed, been weeks—eight weeks, to be exact—since his father had been laid to rest, having lost his battle against the ailments that had wracked his body. The prince's entire world had changed in that moment, nearly every waking moment consumed with the official affairs of managing his kingdom, the kingdom that now was his and his alone. He had been so busy, in fact, that he had barely had time to escape the palace, an eventuality he now realized was no excuse for the way he had ignored his wife, how he had treated what little time they had been able to share without a thought for how his absence was hurting her. _You really have been an idiot, you know that? _he thought to himself.

He set his jaw, determined to make amends for his actions. "I don't know," he answered, glancing down at the black fabric of his shirt. "I guess . . . because I haven't felt ready to take over for my father. Because I have been so overwhelmed by everything that's been happening, I . . . I've been trying to hold onto his memory in the hopes that somehow, he would come back." He frowned as he realized just how absurd his words sounded, even to his own ears. "I guess that sounds really stupid, doesn't it?"

She turned to face him, gently angling her fluke so that her fin came to rest against his ankle, the soft, warm skin brushing against his ankle, comforting him as best she could. "No," she answered, doing her best to be supportive. "No, it doesn't." A sad smile crossed her lips. "And I . . . I don't blame you for not seeing me lately. I know . . . Now that you are king, you have to make sacrifices for your people. I understand, even if that means . . ."

He ran his hand through her hair as his lips met her forehead. "No. I've given up too much time with you as it is. I'm not making that mistake again. I'm not going to let anything stand in our way. Advisers be damned."

He frowned as he noticed her face contort into a strange expression of discomfort for the briefest of moments, wondering if he should ask her what was the matter. The moment passed, her countenance returning to normal as she rested her head upon his shoulder, the gentle pulsation of the ocean waves filling their ears as the morning sun rose in the distance.

"Ariel," he said quietly, breaking the ocean's spell. "Ariel, what do your people believe about . . . about death? I mean, what do you think happens to someone when they . . . you know?"

She pulled her head back from his shoulder, the look of confusion upon her face melting away to one of empathetic concern as she saw the pain in his eyes. "Well," she said slowly, her fingers moving toward her husband's chin. "We believe that there is a place of eternal peace for the _sulúvathem_ . . . I mean, the spirits of those who have lived a worthy and just life."

He looked at her with interest. "Tell me about it. Please."

Her eyes of blue grew wide as she recalled the stories she had been told from her childhood. "The wise ones say that the waters there are warmer and clearer than any water in the world. That you can swim for hours at a time as fast as you want and never get tired. That everything bad about this world—your fears, your worries—all just melts away, leaving you happier than you have ever been." She paused as she noticed his transfixed expression. "Do . . . Do you think that sounds . . . oh, what's the word . . . 'ree-dik-ew-luss'?"

He shook his head. "No . . . I don't. That sounds . . . That sounds beautiful." He cleared his throat as he glanced back toward the palace in the distance, his heart sinking as he realized yet another day of business awaited him. Standing, he carefully carried his wife to the water, kneeling beside her as he kissed her goodbye, not caring that his trousers were now soaking wet.

"Thank you for telling me that," he whispered in her ear. "I feel . . . I feel much better now." He gestured toward his shirt. "I won't be wearing this again. I think . . . I think I'm finally ready to move on now. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Her grimace was obvious this time, no matter how much she tried to hide her moment of discomfort. Shaking her head, she looked out into the water, her eyes staring at something far in the distance as her fin twitched noticeably. "No," she said softly. "I . . . I need to do something. I need to go see . . ." She looked back at him, a strange look in her eyes. "Not tomorrow, but the day after tomorrow. Promise me that, no matter what business you may have, you will be there. Please?"

He answered by locking his lips with hers, their kiss lasting what seemed an eternity before they finally broke away. Smiling sadly, he waved to her as she disappeared beneath the surface. _I promise, Ariel. I promise . . ._

* * *

><p>He stood on the sand of the beach, his eyes looking about, searching for her as he waited. <em>It's not like her to be late, <em>he thought to himself as he scanned the waters once more for any sign of her. _Especially not when she made me promise to be here._

He folded his arms, his mind replaying the events of the past two days. Those who served in his court had been unanimous in their praise of his decision to put aside his mourning black. He had brought a welcome sense of purpose and focus to their affairs, they had commented, as if something had happened to bestow upon him a hitherto unknown air of confidence and authority. He had surprised even himself, he conceded, with how decisive he had been on some key issues, his air of certainty causing those who had contemplated disagreeing with him to back down.

_One of those issues is precisely what I want to discuss with her, _he mused as he checked the sun's position in the sky for the fifteenth time that minute, a sense of unease descending upon him as he began to suspect that something was delaying her, preventing her from arriving.

His fears disappeared as she suddenly surfaced next to him, her flaming hair framing her face as she allowed him to carry her to the sand.

"I missed you," he confessed as he pressed her head to his chest, the familiar, salty scent of her hair filling his nostrils.

"Me too," she said quietly, her eyes darting back and forth as she clasped her hands in an obvious sign of discomfort and uncertainty.

He was too preoccupied with what he wanted to tell her to notice. "Listen," he said, squeezing her hand. "I need to tell you something. I've made a decision."

"What?" she asked, doing her best to conceal her own trepidation. "What have you—"

He took a deep breath. "I've informed my advisers that I am going to be relocating my chambers to the lower levels of the palace."

She raised an eyebrow, confused. "I . . . don't understand. What does that have to do with—"

He smiled. "There is an underwater channel that leads from the ocean toward the lower level of the palace. I know because I found it by accident when I was playing there as a boy."

She shook her head, not comprehending. "I still don't—"

He placed his arm on her shoulder. "Don't you see? You can swim through there directly into my new living quarters. We can be together somewhere besides here! We can have privacy and be with each other whenever we want!" He cocked his head. "As long as you can come up with something to tell your father, of course."

She nodded, an awkward smile forming on her lips. "That . . . That sounds wonderful . . ."

He frowned as he realized she was not nearly as excited about this news as he had expected. "What is it?" he asked. "I thought you would be ecstatic about this! This is great news, Ariel!"

She shifted uncomfortably upon the sand. "I know it is, Eric. And I . . . I'm happy, of course! I just . . ."

Her fin flicked back and forth as she wrung her hands once more. He frowned at her uncharacteristic behavior. "Something's wrong," he said, a sense of foreboding coming over him. "I know it. You've been acting strangely since you arrived."

Her face blanched, her eyes darting back toward the sea. "I . . . I need to go," she said quickly as she attempted to pull herself to the water. "You . . . You have a busy day, I'm sure, and—"

He took hold of her hand, preventing her from leaving. "Not to busy to spend time with you," he said quietly. His other hand came to rest on her cheek, a frown falling upon his face as he realized she was shivering. "What is the matter, Ariel? You said you had to see something . . . or someone. What was it? Who was it?"

Realizing he was not going to let her leave, the sea-maiden inhaled sharply, her eyes falling upon the sand, not daring to look him in the eye. "I . . . I went to see a _thruwélethwan_. A healer," she said quietly.

His eyes filled with worry. "Are . . . Are you sick? Is something wrong?"

"No!" she insisted, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "I mean, yes, I've been feeling a little ill lately, but I thought it was because I was worried about you. You've been so miserable lately, and I just want you to be happy, and now I'm afraid that you won't be, I'm afraid that you'll hate me because I—"

She clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing she had said more than she had intended.

He took hold of her wrists, gently removing her hands from her mouth. "You can tell me," he said. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please. You look scared. Why are you so scared?"

She was rocking back and forth with anxiety, her face paler than usual. "She . . . She told me . . . I mean, I . . . I found out something," she whispered. "Something . . . Something that I should be excited about, but I . . . I'm afraid you—"

"Ariel, please," he said, pulling her close, his heart pounding as he wondered just what could be troubling his beloved so greatly that she would be afraid to tell him about it. "Tell me."

She closed her eyes, marshaling her courage. After a moment, she opened her eyes once more, her hand moving to her abdomen. "I . . . I'm . . . I mean, I don't know what the human word is, but I'm . . . We are . . ."

His own breath caught in his throat as he suddenly understood. "Ariel," he whispered, carefully forming each syllable. "Are you . . . Are we going to have a . . .?"

She winced, dreading his reaction. "Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "Yes, we are."

He stared at her blankly as a hundred different thoughts and emotions cascaded through his brain. His lack of response only served to heighten her worry even further. "Eric, please," she whispered. "Please, _luvánathem_. Please say something."

He opened his mouth to curse, to scream in exasperation, to ask how this could possibly be happening, to roar that he had far too much on his plate at the moment to deal with news of this magnitude. But instead, he felt his mouth spread into the widest smile he had ever smiled before, his hands shaking as he touched the smooth skin of her abdomen, his heart pounding in his chest as looked at her.

"I . . . I . . ."

"Yes, Eric?" she asked, not certain if his reaction was one of happiness or slow-to-develop outrage, her body involuntarily flinching as his fingers touched her flesh concealing her womb, as if searching for some outward sign of the life now growing inside of her. She could barely breathe as she puzzled over his inscrutable reaction, terrified that he would reject her, scream at her, cast her aside, abandon her—

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him, refusing to let her go as he clung to her tightly.

"This is the happiest news I have ever heard," he whispered in her ear, his words causing her to sob with cries of relief and joy. "Do you understand me? This is the happiest day of my life!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	10. Stanza X

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza X**

* * *

><p><em>But no matter how much they tried to escape,<em>  
><em>To live with only each other's company,<em>  
><em>Their two worlds divided and pulled them apart,<em>  
><em>The man and his daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>"Oh . . . Oh, my!"<p>

He smiled as she looked around his recently relocated private chambers, her eyes wide with excitement as she studied every detail of the room. From the furniture to the tapestries mounted on the walls, she beheld each item as if it was a priceless treasure, something to be treated with the utmost reverence and respect.

He laughed in spite of himself as he carried her towards the bed on the far side of the room. "Here," he said. "Tell me what you think of this." Her curiosity brought a much-needed sense of levity to his spirit, his mind made up that he had made the correct decision in moving his quarters to a more private location near the waterway flowing by the bowels of the palace. It had been a relatively simple matter to retrieve her from the channel without anyone noticing, as few dwelling within the palace had reason to venture toward that section of the building. From there, he had brought her through the narrow, abandoned corridors to his new bedchamber, his spirit silently rejoicing that they would finally be able to spend time together away from the beach.

The instant she made contact with the softness of the bed, her eyes had grown even wider, her hands running over the warm blanket, her fin splaying to its full length as she savored the unfamiliar sensation. "This . . . This is amazing!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "It's so . . . so soft! What is it?"

He grinned as he lay next to her, his arm draped around her shoulder. "This, my dear _véldenmaína, _is a bed. It's where humans go when they want to sleep."

"'Bed,'" she repeated as she stretched her hands across the silky sheets once more. "I like this," she said as she smiled at him, her hair fanning out across the pillow beneath her head. "I like this a lot!"

He brushed his hand against her cheek, his eyes moving toward her abdomen just above where scales of jade met pale skin, her belly still flat, not yet betraying the existence of what was now dwelling inside of her. It had been two weeks since she had told him the news that had changed everything for him, yet it seemed to him as though he had just found out the day before. "How . . . How are you feeling?" he asked. "Can you feel . . . anything?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. The baby is still too small."

He realized his face must have betrayed a look of mild disappointment, for she raised her eyebrow at him, her fingers closing around his wrist. "It won't be long now, Eric," she said. "The baby will begin growing quickly. And then . . ." Her face fell, a worried look etched upon her countenance. "And then, there will be no hiding it from anyone. Especially not my father . . ."

He nodded slowly. "Have you thought about what you . . . what you're going to tell him?"

She exhaled slowly, her fin twitching back and forth. "I . . . I don't know, Eric," she whispered. "He . . . He's going to be so angry I . . . I don't know what he will do." She looked at her husband, her eyes growing moist, her pulse racing. "He hates humans, Eric. I mean, he _hates _them. It was bad enough when we were only married. But now . . . now that I am carrying your—"

She bit her lip, her heart racing as a wave of hopelessness came upon her. "I don't know what to do, Eric. He can't find out. He just can't! And what about your people? How will they feel about you having a child with . . . with someone like me? What if they find out—"

He brought his lips to hers, doing his best to alleviate her fears as he kissed her slowly, deeply. Pulling away, he brought his palm to rest upon her abdomen, stroking it deliberately, lovingly. "I . . . I've been thinking, Ariel," he said softly. "About us. About how we can be with each other without having hide any longer. About how we can be a family."

She looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. "Come away with me, Ariel. Let's get away from all of this. Let's go somewhere where no one knows who we are, where we can live our lives quietly without having to worry about what other people think. Where we can have our baby and not have to be apart from each other."

She shook her head, not understanding. "How . . . How can you say that?" she whispered. "Your subjects . . . You can't just leave them! As much as I want to do what you say, you can't—"

He touched her lips gently, silencing her. "We can . . . if we follow the arrangements I have made."

She looked at him, a quizzical expression upon her face. "What arrangements?"

He held her hand tightly. "I have studied the laws of my kingdom again and again, Ariel. In the event that the king should die leaving no heirs to the throne, the kingdom is to be ruled by the man selected in advance by the king and named in an official decree."

She now had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "What do you mean, 'if the king dies'? What are you planning to—"

"I'm talking about faking my death," he said, the words rolling off his tongue as if the outlandish response he was giving was the most natural thing in the world to say.

She shook her head, certain she had misunderstood him, that she did not understand some double meaning of his human words. "What . . . What did you say?"

His expression was now as serious as could be, his hands wrapped tightly around her wrist. "It's the only way, Ariel. We . . . No matter what we do—"

She shook her head in disbelief. "But . . . But your kingdom! Your responsibilities—"

"Are not nearly as important to me as you," he interrupted, a fierce, determined look in his eyes. "Or our baby." He swallowed as a pained expression came over his countenance. "When we were married, I vowed to put you first in my life. Even if it means . . ." He grimaced mildly. "Even if it means leaving the only life I've ever known, I would do it in a heartbeat if it meant we could be with each other."

She cocked her head as she returned his intense gaze. "But how . . . How would you . . .? And who would take your place?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, a roguish glint in his eye as he described the plan he had been formulating for some time. "It would be easy," he said. "I could tell my advisers that I am going for a quiet sail out at sea. They would think nothing of it. It is expected that the kings of our land be experienced sailors; it's a tradition that goes back at least eight generations. Then, once I'm far enough away from shore, I could stage an accident and sink the boat." He grinned at her. "You could meet me there and help me swim back to shore. Once there, we can make for the islands to the south. I've been there before, years ago. The Men who live there keep to themselves and don't ask questions. As long as we're discreet, we could start a new life there."

She watched in silent amazement as his motions became more animated, as his voice became more and more excited with each passing moment.

"I even know the perfect place where we could live," he said, reaching into his trouser pocket. Withdrawing an old piece of canvas, he unfolded it, revealing a painting of a large lake surrounded by trees, the sky above casting beautiful orange hues upon the scene.

Her skepticism faded away as she stared at the work of art. "Oh, Eric," she said quietly. "_Seretha illúmithwen_ . . . It's beautiful!" Frowning, she glanced at her husband, her fin brushing against his arm. "Is this . . . Is this place real?"

He laughed as he ran his hand gently across her fin. "Yes, it is," he replied. "I was there once as a boy. My parents took me there on vacation once. I'd never seen trees so green in my life, or water so clear." His eyes grew cloudy as memories swirled within his mind. "I fell in love with it, Ariel. I knew that was where I wanted to live, and I swore to myself that someday I would find a way to do so." He took her hand, tracing her finger over the painting. "You'll love it too, Ariel. I _know _you will! The lake is actually connected to the ocean through a small waterway, so you can swim as much as you want and not have to worry about becoming bored. I can build us a house on the shore so you and . . ." He paused, catching his breath. "So you and the baby can have somewhere to come home to when you're done in the water for the day."

She nodded, realizing he must have spent hours devising this plan. "And . . . And what about your subjects? Who will take care of them? Your advisers? You would leave them with—"

A snort of derision erupted from his nostrils. "God, no! No, Ariel. I've already drafted the documents. They are with my official papers, marked with the seal of my office. They state that if anything were to happen to me, my cousin MacDowell would succeed me. He's a good man, Ariel. A bit eccentric, but . . ." He clasped her hand once again. "He, unlike those within my government, thinks only about serving others. He manages a sizeable portion of land in the southwestern territories. All who work for him are unanimous in declaring what an honorable, just master he is. He would take good care of my people."

He brought one hand to rest upon her shoulder. "So? What do you think, Ariel? Will you come away with me?"

She flashed her familiar, warm smile at him. "Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes, Eric. I . . . I want everything you said! I want to swim in the warm waters of the islands. I don't want to have to hide our love any longer. I want to raise our baby somewhere safe."

She stretched her form against the soft cushion of the bedcovers, her fluke spread luxuriously across the bed. "But first . . . First, I want to sleep in this 'bed' you've shown me. It's so comfortable, I don't know if I ever want to leave."

He smiled. "I'll make sure you have a bed even more comfortable than this one in our house in the islands."

She pouted at him mischievously. "You promise? Because if you are lying to me . . ."

"Never," he said as he positioned himself on top of her. "I know better than to even dream of such a thing."

She looked at him quizzically. "What are you doing? I thought . . . I thought it was time for sleep."

"It is," he admitted as he kissed her cheek, his hand ever so delicately moving to caress the warm, inviting area just below her waist. "But humans do more in beds than just sleep."

"Really?" she asked, her breathing becoming ragged as his touch began sending pleasant shivers down her spine to her fin. She raised an eyebrow once more. "You realize that soon . . . I'll be so _etémena_ . . . so large with child, you won't want to look at me anymore."

"Never," he said, shaking his head as he kissed her abdomen. "I'll never stop looking at you. Ever."

She nodded as he moved toward her face once again, his lips meeting her own as they kissed. "When the baby comes, it will change everything, Eric," she whispered as they broke away from each other. "Everything."

"I know," he said as he stroked her hair, his touch causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as her eyelids drew shut, a series of soft whispers emanating from her lips. "I'm counting on it. I will always be there to take care of the two of you. I promise . . ."

* * *

><p>He frowned as he walked along the channel running by the palace, his eyes fixated on the dark storm clouds that had gathered above. "That's odd," he mused aloud.<p>

"What?" she asked as she swam in the waters next to him, her head above the surface. "What is it?"

"It's . . . It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just, I've never seen clouds form quite like that before a storm comes."

He frowned as he noticed something else peculiar. Typically, when a storm rolled in from across the sea, the clouds that accompanied it moved quickly, propelled at high speeds by the unseen wind. But these clouds were barely moving, their inky blackness resting above, as if placed there by design.

"Ariel, I don't like this," he said as he glanced down at his wife. "Maybe I should take you back inside until the storm passes. You need to rest, anyway. It's not good for the baby for you to be . . ."

His voice trailed off as he realized she had stopped moving. Her face was whiter than he had ever seen before, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her cheeks, her head moving furiously back and forth, as though she was trying to deny some obvious truth.

"Ariel, what is it?" he asked, kneeling next to the water of the channel. "What's the matter—"

She turned her head sharply to face him, her eyes of blue wide with panic. "Eric, you need to get out of here!" she whispered, her voice filled with fear. "Now!"

His stomach churned with nervous excitement as he leaned toward her. "What are you talking about? What are you so afraid of—"

Without warning, the water before her parted as the figure of a man rose from beneath the surface, his muscular torso and arms glistening in the stray rays of sunlight that managed to sneak through the storm clouds above. Eric watched in awe as the man of the sea looked down at her, then at him, his eyes filled with barely-contained fury, his beard of white and long white locks adding to the unsettling effect, making him look more like a god than a mortal being.

Realization dawned upon the prince as he suddenly comprehended, the man of the sea's gaze boring directly into his soul, unsettling him.

His wife's voice broke the silence that had descended upon the channel, her words trembling noticeably, her eyes not daring to make contact with the figure before her. _"Weltheten, Veldre," _she managed to choke out. "Hello, Father."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	11. Stanza XI

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XI**

* * *

><p><em>For her father discovered their illicit romance<em>  
><em>And his pride would not permit such a love to be.<em>  
><em>The wind, how it moaned, and the sea, how it groaned<em>  
><em>As he confronted the man and the daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>The wind howled across the beach, dark storm clouds blotting out the sun above as the prince stared in awe and fear at the man—<em>No, <em>he corrected himself, _not a man!_—that had risen from the waters of the ocean. His bearded face, framed with long white hair, was lined and wrinkled, like the face of a man who has borne the unique responsibility that comes with kingship, with being responsible for countless lives beyond his own, of having to make the difficult decisions necessary to ensure the survival of his people. His right hand clenched a three-pronged scepter tightly, its golden hue glimmering, radiating some ethereal power that the prince knew instinctively was worthy of his respect.

But it was the man of the sea's eyes that frightened the prince the most. This godlike creature of the sea was staring at him as though the human prince was the most repugnant being ever created, invisible daggers flying directly into the prince's heart. In that moment, the prince found some small part of himself, as absurd as it seemed, wishing for death, for surely that was preferable to facing the wrath of the sea king before him.

At long last, the ruler of the sea turned his attention to the sea-maiden before him, his gaze softening ever-so-slightly for the briefest of moments before hardening once more, his expression of anger mixing with what the prince perceived to be grave disappointment. Shaking his head, the ruler of the ocean spoke at last, his voice powerful, echoing effortlessly across the waves.

_"Ne dana thruéldeven, _Ariel_," _he stated, his tone even yet tinged with barely-concealed rage. He glanced back at the prince, a scowl forming upon his face as his lip curled with unbridled contempt. _"Etse extávalen . . . dena _human_?"_

The prince held his breath as his wife continued to stare at the water before her, too afraid to raise her eyes. _"Neh na, Veldre," _she said quietly, shaking her head, her long red hair quivering with her movements. _"E théreman luve—"_

"Ariel," the prince said, quietly interrupting the proceedings. "What . . . What are you saying?"

The sea king whirled about, focusing his gaze upon the prince once more. "I would be silent if I were you, human," he snarled in the human tongue, his face turning red beneath his beard. "I have no qualms about killing you where you stand after what you have done."

He shook his head as he noticed that his daughter's eyes had grown wide with disbelief, as had the prince's. "That is right, human," he continued. "I am all-too-familiar with your kind's language. My father taught it to me when I was but a child, as his father taught him." A look of disgust passed across his countenance. "Although I find the sounds of your speech entirely repulsive, I realize I must use it if I am to discover from you just what you have . . ."

To the prince's astonishment, the sea king seemed to grow even taller as he drew himself up with anger, the cobalt color of the scales upon his powerful tailfin glistening in the water as his grip on the trident in his hand grew even tighter. "Did you think I would never discover what you have been doing with my daughter? Did you honestly believe that you were so clever I would not begin to question just where she has been disappearing to all this time?"

"_Veldre, _please," his daughter said, her blue eyes finally daring to look at him, pleading, begging. "Let me explain—"

A look of horror came across her father's face as she spoke. "No," he whispered to himself, his face turning nearly as white as his beard. "What are you . . . How are you—"

She swallowed, marshaling her courage as she stretched her hand out toward him. "I know the human language now too, _Veldre_," she stated. She glanced at her husband, a thin smile crossing her lips despite her fear. "He . . . He has taught me so many things—"

"NO!" he roared, his eyes filled with murderous intent as his hands began to shake with anger. "Are you even listening to yourself, Ariel? You have broken every law of our people! You have consorted with a human! You _know _it is forbidden, Ariel! Why?! Why would you even—"

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched the figure she knew as her father continue his descent into a rage more primal, more hateful than anything she had ever seen. "I . . . I didn't mean to!" she protested. "But he . . . He was drowning! I couldn't just leave him—"

Her father was now beyond all hope of rational thought. "OF COURSE YOU COULD HAVE! IT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN TO—"

She was overwhelmed, her fear mingling with the growing realization that the love she and her husband shared was now being twisted into something ugly and shameful. She swam to the edge of the water, her hand outstretched, her husband taking hold of it as he knelt beside her. _"Luvánase, Veldre!" _she cried out as her fingers entwined with the prince's. "I love him!"

The sea king recoiled at her words, his rage momentarily foiled by his daughter's unexpected words. "What . . . What did you just say?"

She did not waver, did not falter as she bit her lip, her eyes staring defiantly into her startled father's own. "You heard me," she said in a voice that was soft yet brimming with confidence. "I love him! We are one now, _Veldre_! I have given myself to him, and there is nothing you can do to change that. See?"

She thrust her hand toward her father, the sea king's breath catching in his throat as he saw, for the first time, the ring on her finger, the ring she had always been so careful to conceal from him. He staggered backward, his fin flailing behind him as his mind filled with turmoil. "What is this, Ariel?" he finally whispered. "Just what have you done?"

She inhaled deeply as she looked her husband in the eye, her lips meeting his own, drawing from his strength as she prepared to deliver the words she knew would most certainly, in the eyes of her father, lead to her damnation. "You know what this is, _Veldre_," she said as she fought to keep her voice even. "You know what this means."

"Ariel . . ."

Her father's voice rang in her ears, a warning shot intended to give her one final opportunity to repent before she crossed the point of no return.

Undaunted, she pressed forward. "That's right, _Veldre. _Eric and I . . ." She watched her father grimace at the mention of her husband's name. "We are _sénathema _now. He is my husband and I . . . I am his wife!"

The prince was certain that the sea king before him was going to lunge forward from the water, wrap his hands around his throat, and squeeze the life from him, so outraged was the look upon his face. "What have you done to my daughter, human?" he growled. "You have turned her against her own people! Against me! Is it not enough that your race has done so much harm to us? You now must add insult to injury my ensnaring my daughter in your lies?!"

The prince rose, his heart pounding within his chest as he bowed before the sea king. "Your Majesty," he said solemnly. "I . . . I cannot undo whatever harm has befallen you in the past. But I . . . I can assure you, I have no intention of harming your daughter or any other—"

"SILENCE!"

The sea king's brow furrowed as he beheld the young prince before him. "I do not desire to see you beg and snivel, human prince! Save your apologies! They do nothing to assuage the hatred that burns within my spirit!"

His eyes grew cloudy as painful memories raced through his mind. "I made the mistake once of trusting your father. I foolishly believed a peaceful alliance could be formed between our races, that our age-old enmity could at last be extinguished."

The prince and the sea-maiden looked at each other in amazement. "You . . . You met my father?" he asked hesitantly. "When? He never mentioned—"

The sea king snorted derisively. "Of course not. He betrayed my trust! He swore he would ensure that we could come above the surface without fear of reprisal. But the one time I took him at his word . . ." He shuddered as if reliving some painful experience anew. "My beloved wife died because of your father's lies. My daughter, whom you now mistakenly believe to have taken for your own, suffered terribly because of his actions. I have endured enough misery because of your race, and I will not be swayed by your words, no matter how sincere they may sound."

He took a deep breath, calming himself before looking to his daughter. "We are leaving now, Ariel. I am taking you home with me. This infatuation of yours has run its course. But now it must come to an end—"

"No!"

He bristled at her defiant statement. "What did you say?"

She wrapped her arm tightly around the prince's arm, her fin moving rapidly back and forth beneath the waves just off the beach. "No, _Veldre. _I won't leave him!"

The sea king felt his anger begin to rise once again. "Ariel, my patience grows thinner by the moment—"

"I have made my choice!" she shouted, not caring what the consequences of her words may be. "I am not a _véldengaia, Veldre_! I am a _véldenmaína_! I am old enough to decide for myself—"

"You are my daughter!" he bellowed. "I will not permit you to throw your life away with an impossible—"

"There is nothing impossible about this!" she cried, running a hand through her hair. "We are going to spend our lives together, _Veldre. _With or without your blessing. No matter what happens, we will have each other and our—"

She stopped herself, her heart racing as she realized what she had almost revealed, her husband looking at her, a panicked expression upon his face.

Her father's mind was already fast at work, studying the worried look upon her face, the way she touched the human prince's hand in such delicate and intimate fashion, the way her free hand continued to involuntarily hover near her abdomen, her fingers occasionally coming to rest upon her pale skin as she—

"Ariel . . ."

His voice now lacked its domineering tone, its air of unquestioned authority. Rather, it now sounded unsure, terrified, like one who placed their vain hope in the possibility, however remote, that they were horribly mistaken.

"Ariel," he repeated, his hand outstretched to her, his face no longer filled with anger but with trepidation. "Ariel, tell me . . . Please, tell me you did not . . . That you are not . . ."

"I told you," she whispered, her heart aching as she delivered the final, unalterable truth that would seal her fate. "We are _sénathema _now. Eric and I are one . . . in every possible way." Her hand came to rest upon her belly as she returned her father's unflinching gaze. "Something wonderful has happened, _Veldre. _We . . . We are going to—"

A roar of rage tore from the sea king's throat as he covered his head in grief, backing away from the shoreline as the reality of his daughter's words thoroughly washed over him. At long last, after what seemed an eternity, he regained control of himself, his hand tightening around the trident in his hand, the golden scepter now shining with blindingly bright light.

"YOU!"

The prince recoiled, his wife screaming in horror, as the sea king thrust the trident to his throat, the hot metal of the divine object mere inches from his throat.

"How dare you!" the sea king bellowed. "You seduce my daughter . . . You defile her, stripping her of her maidenhood . . . And now you have planted your seed within her? Your bastard offspring now dwells within . . ."

With a hellish cry, he cast his arm behind him, the glowing trident prepared to deliver the prince's deathblow. Oblivious to his daughter's desperate pleas, he brought the trident to bear toward the prince's heart, his roar of fury sounding in his ears as, hell-bent upon exacting his vengeance, his vision filled with nothing but red.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	12. Stanza XII

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XII**

* * *

><p><em>With their romance now shattered by the ways of the world,<em>  
><em>They parted oh-so-reluctantly.<em>  
><em>Their hearts lay in pieces, utterly destroyed,<em>  
><em>Now apart were the man and the daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>"NO!"<p>

At the last possible moment, the sea king stayed his hand, the weapon of glistening metal shining within his grasp as his daughter threw herself from the water, landing at the prince's feet. The king's gaze grew even darker, his voice now as cold as ice as he spoke to his daughter. "Ariel, get out of my way! _Now!_"

She shook her head defiantly, her hands arms clinging tightly to her husband's leg, her eyes filled with both fear and a bravery her father had never witnessed in her before. "No, _Veldre,_" she said, her voice trembling as the wind howled about, the waves crashing over her emerald fin. "I won't! If you want to kill him, you will have to kill me too!"

The prince felt his blood run cold at his wife's words. "Ariel, what are you doing?" he whispered as he knelt beside her, his lips near her ear. "Don't do this—"

"MOVE AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER, HUMAN!"

The sea king's face was now a terrifying shade of purple, his lip quivering with fury as he contemplated his daughter's actions. "Do it now!" he commanded, his eyes fixated upon the prince, the trident within his grasp now white hot. "If you have any honor at all, if you are indeed a man, then prove it! Die with dignity, not cowering behind my daughter's misguided—"

"I am _not _misguided!" she interjected, refusing to release her grip upon her husband's leg. Shaking her head, she looked upon the enraged sea king, her heart ensnared in the crushing grip of despair. "Please, _Veldre_! Please! Leave us be! We aren't hurting anybody! We just . . ." She paused, carefully choosing her words, her hand coming to rest upon the smooth, flat skin of her abdomen, the abdomen she knew would soon swell and grow alongside the new life now dwelling within her. "We just want to be a family! Is that too much to ask? To have what you and . . . and _Mánawe—_"

Something within the sea king snapped in that moment. At the mention of his beloved queen, he lost control of himself. Roaring in rage, he lunged forward from the water, his free hand gripping his daughter's wrist before hurling her across the beach. Caught off guard, she cried out in pain and fear as she slid along the sand, her pale skin and scales of jade becoming scratched and bloody as the jagged rocks and stones peppering the shoreline cut into her.

"HOW _DARE _YOU EVEN SPEAK HER NAME?!"

The prince let out a cry of anger at the sea king's actions, his hands clenched into tight fists as he rushed to his wife's side, his progress halting suddenly as the gleaming trident was thrust into his face once more, its triple prongs sparkling with intensity, as if the inanimate object was desperate to unleash its deadly power upon the mortal before it.

The sea king was now beyond all rational thought as he glared at his daughter, his anger overwhelming him, pushing aside any doubts as to what the effect of his words may be. It was bad enough, he told himself, that she had shamed him by disobeying the most sacred of their laws by making contact with a human. But to do what she had done—to lie with him, to willfully accept his seed, to desire to carry a . . . Such a thing was unprecedented, unheard of, and the ruler of the waves was damned if he was about to allow such a course of action to go unpunished.

"Look at yourself, Ariel!" he commanded. "Is this what your mother would have wanted?! For you to dishonor our people . . . our family by giving yourself to . . . to . . . _this_?! Do you think she would permit you to give birth to . . ." His face paled for an instant, as if he was about to be physically ill by the repulsive notion. "To whatever abomination is now growing within you?! DO YOU?!"

She stared at her father in disbelief, for the first time in her life now feeling utter fear in his presence, her right hand resting protectively upon her belly as she comprehended the underlying message beneath his words. "No!" she cried out, her hand trembling as it instinctively caressed the flesh above her womb. "You can't! I . . . I won't let you—"

"That is not your choice to make!" the sea king retorted as he slowly lowered his trident from before the prince's face, aiming it instead toward her abdomen. "You are my daughter," he stated, his voice softening slightly as he looked upon her with pity. "You are young and confused. You do not know what you—"

"I am old enough to make my own choices!" she shouted, now filled with unvarnished terror as she desperately looked for some way to escape. "I want this, _Veldre_! You . . . You cannot take this from me! It is forbidden—"

"Do not lecture me on what is permitted and what is not by our laws, Ariel!" the king retorted, his grip tightening upon his weapon. "I know very well that what I am about to do is a violation of all I have sworn to uphold. But I do it now because to permit that . . . that _thing _within you to live would be the greater evil. You may hate me now, Ariel, but one day, you will understand."

She was now within the grasp of complete panic. Her eyes darted back and forth hurriedly along with her fin, her breath coming at a rapid pace as she looked in desperation toward her husband. "Eric, please!" she pleaded, knowing her begging was in vain. "Please! Don't let him! Don't let him take my—"

"ENOUGH!"

The sea king started as the powerful voice tore through the wind rushing about. His brow furrowed, he turned toward its source, his thinly-veiled rage fixating upon the prince.

"You dare speak to me in such a manner, human prince?!" His voice was little more than a whisper, yet it sounded across the beach as though he was roaring with all his might, every word painstakingly clear. "I will not stand by and permit you to—"

The prince glared at the sea king, his eyes bristling with anger as he wrapped his arms around his terrified wife. "I will not let you do anything to our child!" he shouted. "Do you understand?"

In spite of his anger, the sea king laughed mirthlessly, amused at the prince's boldness. "You are more courageous than I anticipated, speaking to me this way. Either that, or you are very, very stupid." His laughter fading away, the ruler of the waves shook his head impatiently. "Step aside, human, or your next breath will be your last."

Undaunted, the prince held his ground. "You seem to consider yourself a just, equitable ruler of your people. Is that a fair statement, Your Majesty?"

"Do not try to barter your way out of your situation with flattery," the king warned, his fingers curling about his trident. "How much more shame do you expect me to permit my daughter to bring upon my house? Your union is entirely unnatural, human! As is your seed! I am doing it a favor by extinguishing its life now before—"

"Stop it!"

The prince drew himself to his full height, his heart heavy, his head bowed low as he looked toward the sea king. "I . . . I would like to propose an agreement, Your Majesty. A treaty, if you will."

"Eric, what are you doing?"

His wife's voice rang in his ears, trepidation hanging from every syllable as she pondered just what he had in mind. Glancing back toward her, he smiled sadly. "What I need to do to keep you . . . you and the baby safe."

The sea king folded his arms, begrudgingly forced to admit to himself that his curiosity was piqued. "This had better not be a waste of my time, human."

The prince looked the sea king in the eye, swallowing slowly. "If you swear to me that nothing will happen to Ariel or . . ." He steadied himself, bracing himself for the anticipated interjection. "Or our baby, I . . . I will allow them to return to the sea forever. And I . . ." He ran his hand through his hair, forcing himself to say the hated words. "I swear I will never see her again as long as you live."

Silence descended upon the beach as the king and his daughter each reacted to the prince's words. It was she who finally spoke, her voice tinged with anguish as she fought to deny what she had just heard. "Eric, no! Please! Don't do this! Don't—"

He turned back to her, kneeling gently beside her once more, his hand caressing her cheek, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's the only way, Ariel," he whispered, kissing her brow, his other hand resting upon her abdomen. "It's the only way to save the baby."

She shook her head vigorously, her fiery hair cascading about her shoulders in protest. "No! We can still . . . We can follow your plan! We can escape! We can find somewhere—_anywhere_—where we can be together! We . . . We . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she realized just how futile her protests were, her fin curling about his leg as she was forced to confront the truth in her husband's words. Her father would never let them be, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. He would look for them no matter where they went, never resting until the child within her womb was . . .

The sea king's voice broke the silence. "What makes you think I have any interest in bargaining with you, prince? You have no leverage here! There is nothing to keep me from—"

The prince was on his feet once more, his voice ringing with a confidence he did not possess as he stared down his opponent. "I am giving your daughter back to you. Your honor will be restored. None among your people need know what we have done. But you must swear to me that the baby will not be harmed. That you will allow Ariel to deliver our child without interference." His gaze grew in intensity along with his voice. "Do you understand?!"

The king scoffed at the prince's words. "What do you know of honor, human? You who stripped my daughter of hers now speak as though abandoning her will somehow make all right with the world once again. What am I to say when my kin inquire as to just how she is—"

The prince bristled at the king's words. "You may say whatever you wish." He leaned forward, his face mere inches from the sea king's. "Do you have any idea how painful this is for me, Your Majesty? Whether you wish to hear what I have to say is of no concern to me. I love your daughter, and I always will. But I . . . I will choose to live without her if it means that our child will live. Do you understand?"

The king nodded as he considered the prince's words. "You _are _much wiser than I thought," he conceded. A frown came upon his lips as he brought the trident to the prince's throat. "Very well. I agree to your terms. Provided, of course, that you agree to my own."

"Name them," the prince said, glancing back at his wife, his heart breaking as he saw her shake her head in sorrow, her lips silently mouthing the word "no" again and again without end.

The sea king inhaled slowly. "You are never to set foot upon the sea again. Ever. If I so much as hear rumors that you are contemplating travelling to a foreign land, I will destroy every vessel within your kingdom's fleet. Is that understood?"

_"Veldre, _no!" his daughter exclaimed, astounded that her father could be so cold-hearted. _"Ne dána—"_

"Agreed," the prince responded, a grim expression upon his countenance. "I swear to you on my love for your daughter: I will never desecrate your waters again so long as you live." He folded his arms. "Now, for some clarification of my terms."

The prince's expression grew dark. "If I ever, _ever _have any reason to believe that any harm has come to Ariel or to our child, I will consider our agreement null and void. I will come after your people without mercy. I will personally hunt down each and every member of your race until they are no more. Do you understand? Even if you destroy every single ship in the kingdom, I will still come after you. You will never escape from me until one of us is dead!"

The king raised an eyebrow as his daughter gasped in disbelief at the harsh words emanating from her husband's lips. Several moments of awkward silence passed when he finally spoke. "Let it be done as you have said, human. You have my word."

"And you, mine," the prince replied, bowing toward the king despite the animosity swelling within his spirit. Turning, he made his way to the figure of his wife, his spirit sinking as the reality of the negotiation he had just conducted began to weigh upon him.

She was sobbing uncontrollably as he carefully lifted her into his arms, her radiant fluke of jade shimmering in the sunlight. "This can't be happening!" she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Tell me this is just a horrible dream!"

"I wish I could," he said quietly as he pulled her close to him, their lips meeting one final time, their kiss lasting for what seemed hours before they finally pulled away from each other. "It will be all right, Ariel."

He felt his own eyes grow moist as he gently set her in the water gently flowing on and off the shore. Kneeling, he brought his face to her belly, his lips lightly kissing her pale skin as a pained expression crossed his face. "I don't know if you can hear me," he whispered toward the tiny child dwelling within his wife's womb. He laughed as he brushed a tear from the corner of his eye, forcing himself to maintain his composure. "You probably can't, but . . . Anyway, I just . . . I want you to know how much I love you. I promise I will think about you every single day. So when you're swimming, or floating, or whatever, just . . . Just know that your father loves you and wishes he could be with you."

She laughed along with him, her laugh quickly turning to cries as they embraced each other, not wanting the moment to end.

"We will see each other again," she whispered in his ear, her voice low so as to avoid the attention of her father. "I don't know how, or when, but . . . But someday, in our special place . . . I will be there."

"I'll be waiting for you," he whispered in reply, his grip upon her tightening as he spoke. "No matter how long it takes, I'll always wait for you."

She finally pulled away, casting a look of outrage toward her father as she swam into the waters off the shore. Just when she was about to plunge into the depths, she turned back one final time. Bringing her palm to her lips, she kissed her fingers, raising her hand toward her husband in a gesture of farewell, her voice ringing in his ears as she disappeared beneath the waves. "_Threfalten e lemáicum, _Eric . . . Goodbye, _luvánathem _. . ."

As his wife and her father vanished into the waters, the prince fell to the shore, his head buried in his hands as a cry of anguish tore at his throat, rising and falling with the tide as he sobbed uncontrollably, the life he had so carefully envisioned for himself and his family now ripped from his grasp . . . forever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	13. Stanza XIII

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XIII**

* * *

><p><em>The years as they passed danced their terrible dance,<em>  
><em>And their separation filled his soul with misery.<em>  
><em>Yet fate bore a surprise that none had foreseen,<em>  
><em>Least of all the man and the daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>"Sire?"<p>

He turned toward the voice, his weary eyes filled with sadness, the noonday sunlight glistening upon the flecks of gray that peppered his black hair and beard, its fading color combining with the lines etched upon his brow to make him appear far older than his years. He had been standing before the large window within the throne room, his gaze cast upon the waves crashing upon the beach in the distance, as had become his custom whenever he had been provided a free moment. His advisers had murmured among themselves at the strange custom of their new king within the first weeks following his coronation, but, with the passage of time, they allowed their whispers to subside into nothingness, lest their words cause their ruler to look with scorn upon their advancement within his inner circle.

"What is it?"

The king's voice betrayed the blight upon his spirit, his throat gravelly, filled with melancholy as he gazed upon the manservant before him. "What is so important that you could not wait while I . . .?" His voice trailed off as memories he had fought for so long to suppress—of the gentle rise and fall of the waves against his feet, of flaming red hair framing pale skin, of eyes of purest blue, of the gentle laugh that fell from her lips as the soft flesh of her fin curled about his ankle—surged through his mind, momentarily overwhelming him.

The manservant nervously shuffled his feet as he stood in the presence of his bereaved king. "Sire, I . . . I apologize profusely for disturbing you during your . . . your contemplation. But I . . . I must inform you—"

The king grimaced as he slowly exhaled. "Yes?"

"Your cousin, Your Majesty," the manservant stated. "He . . . He has just arrived unannounced. Naturally, I tried to have him wait for you, but he—"

The throne room doors burst open as a man entered, his chestnut hair and beard gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode confidently toward the king. Stopping before him, disregarding any pretense of protocol and formality, he clasped his hands upon the king's shoulders, a wide smile upon his lips.

"Hello, cousin. It has been far too long."

The king smiled despite himself as he placed his own hands on the man's shoulders. "It's nice to see you again, MacDowell."

The man's smile faded mildly as he shook his head, an expression of concern furrowing his brow. "You look like hell."

The manservant gasped audibly at MacDowell's audacity. Even though the man was his king's cousin, it was absolutely unthinkable that he would address His Majesty in such a manner.

If the king was offended, however, he gave no visible indication. Rather, he seemed to draw into himself even further, his customary melancholy shrouding the throne room in silence.

"What have you been doing all this time?" MacDowell continued, his hands tightening upon his cousin's shoulders. "I have not seen you since your coronation." He frowned. "Just how long has it been?"

"Fifteen years," the king responded, his gaze growing cloudy as the memories began to stir within his mind once again. "Fifteen years, ten months, twenty-two days . . ."

MacDowell whistled to himself in amazement. "God Almighty . . ." Gathering himself, he draped one arm over the king's shoulder, leading him toward the wide-open doorway. "Come on, cousin," he said. "I did not travel all this way just to stare at a shell of a man. I'm going to liven you up, one way or another."

The king ignored the protests of his manservant as he and MacDowell walked past him, as they entered the corridor. "Just what do you have in mind?"

MacDowell grinned widely. "I think you and I need a drink . . ."

* * *

><p>"Really?"<p>

MacDowell looked upon his cousin in amazement as he took a long sip from his glass, shaking his head in disbelief. A half-empty bottle of hundred-year-old brandy sat upon the table between them as the two men conversed within the private confines of the royal study, the gentle crackling of the flame within the fireplace the only accompaniment to their words. The visitor poured himself another glassful as he tried to make sense of his cousin's story. "So, let me make sure I understand: You haven't travelled anywhere outside your kingdom in fifteen years?!"

The king nodded as he consumed the amber liquid within his own glass, the alcohol doing nothing to alleviate the pain wracking his spirit. "That's right."

MacDowell laughed. "Good God, Eric! What the hell is wrong with you?" He gestured around the opulent décor of the study. "Your kingdom is thriving, in spite of your . . . odd custom of forcing all of your allies to come to you instead of returning the courtesy. Your farms have never been more fruitful. Your ports are always bustling with trade. Just what is it that has you so miserable?"

The king ran his hand through his gray-flecked hair. "It's . . . It's complicated—"

"Bullshit," MacDowell retorted bluntly, a knowing smile tugging at his lip. "I know what that means, Eric. That's doubletalk for woman troubles." He sipped from his glass. "Damn, that is excellent brandy . . ."

Setting his glass down, he cocked his head, his eyes boring directly into his cousin's own. "Seriously, though. I'm right, aren't I? I mean, I always knew there must be a reason why you haven't taken a wife yet. 'Smart man,' I said to anyone who asked me what you were waiting for. 'He's no fool. Wants to enjoy his independence for as long as he can and all.'" He leaned back in his chair. "Although, fifteen years is a hell of a long time to keep your subjects waiting for an heir," he said. "So what's the real story? Surely you know how poorly it reflects upon you that you haven't—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The king rose from his chair, turning to face the door to the study, his agitation plainly written upon his face.

But MacDowell was not one to be easily dissuaded. Matching his cousin, he stood as well, his voice rising in intensity as he fought to break through the barriers the king had erected around himself. "Dammit, Eric! You're really being an ass, you know that? Here I am, going out of my way to pay my dear cousin—who hasn't spoken to me in ages, thank you very much for that—a visit, only to be treated like some unwanted pariah!" The cocky, devil-may-care was gone from MacDowell's face, replaced by a mixture of anger and pity. "Hell, Eric, I don't even know you anymore. What the hell could have happened to make you so—"  
>"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."<p>

MacDowell inhaled slowly, not wanting to destroy the ever-so-slight opening his cousin had inadvertently left for him. "How would you know? You haven't even tried." Gesturing toward the empty chair before him, MacDowell took the king's glass from his hand, filling it once more with the sumptuous liquid from the decanter. "Come on, Eric. Just tell me. I won't say a word until you're finished, I swear. Get whatever is making you miserable off your chest. What do you say?"

Perhaps it was the brandy, or the fact that the cousin he had not seen in years was offering him the sounding board he so desperately desired. Either way, before he realized what was happening, the king found himself sinking into the chair, his voice rambling without pause as he poured out the entire story to the unexpected audience. He did not stop, did not hesitate for fear that his cousin would interject some argument against the tale he knew was too fantastic to be believed, that his words would be dismissed as the ramblings of a lunatic unfit to sit upon the throne of his kingdom, the throne that continued its oppressive reign upon his soul, mocking him, reminding him of all he had sacrificed. Finally, when he could continue no longer, he looked up, expecting to see MacDowell staring at him in utter disbelief. Instead, to his surprise, his cousin merely nodded in silence.

"What?" the king asked as he waited for the dismissive argument to begin. "What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to tell me I'm insane? Aren't you going to try to tell me that something is wrong with me?"

MacDowell hesitated, the silence palpable as he chose his words carefully. Finally, he spoke. "Do you love this girl, Eric?"

The king was on his feet in an instant, his emotions running wild as he railed against his cousin's idiotic question. "Of course I do!" he shouted, hurling his glass into the fireplace, the high-proof liquid within causing the flames to flare up. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying?! Why aren't you trying to tell me how insane it all sounds?! I'm in love with a . . . with a . . ." He scratched his beard in frustration as MacDowell continued to simply look upon him in silence.

His cousin rose, clapping his hand upon the king's shoulder. "Of course it sounds utterly fantastic," he said. "I don't know how much of it is true and how much is some story you've told yourself in order to assuage some guilt you feel about this relationship. But I do know that this girl, whoever . . . _whatever _she is, has her hands around your heart. I can see it in your face, in your demeanor." He took a long swig from his glass, allowing the liquid to thoroughly coat his tongue before swallowing. "So do something about it, Eric."

The king felt his blood pressure begin to climb to dangerously high levels. "Don't you think I would if I could? You heard what I said! I can't . . . I swore—"

"That was fifteen years ago," MacDowell stated calmly. "You've put yourself through hell for that long. I think you have the right to ask to be released from your oath."

The king shook his head. "He won't. Her father hates me. He would never—"

MacDowell raised an eyebrow. "Would it really be so terrible to try?" His expression was now deathly serious as he regarded his suffering cousin. "Well? Would it . . .?"

* * *

><p>"Your Majesty!"<p>

He was on the beach, within the secluded cluster of rocks that had once been the home of so many hours of joy, his gaze moving across the rolling tides as the sun setting in the distance cast its purple and orange rays across the span of the waters. His heart pounding within his chest, he waited, searching for the slightest indication that his call had been heard.

"Your Majesty!" he repeated, his tone filled with a greater sense of urgency. "Dammit, I know you can hear me! I need to speak with you! Please!"

The only response he received was the continuing ebb and flow of the surf, his words serving no purpose other than to conjure forth the emotions he had fought for so long to suppress within the depths of his soul.

His face contorted into an expression of unadulterated emotional agony as he bared his soul, his voice raw as he hurled his words across the waters for all to hear.

"I surrender!" he cried out, his hands pressed against his temples. "Do you hear me?! I surrender! I give up!"

Falling to his knees, he felt his eyes grow moist as he fought with all his might to contain the tears welling up. "You've won, Your Majesty!" he said, his voice softer now, his tone now one of desperate pleading. "Do you understand? You've broken me! I can't do this any longer! I know what I swore to you but I . . . I can't . . ."

His hands dug into the sand upon the beach as he grit his teeth. "I don't care if you kill me," he whispered. "But please, let me . . . Let me see her one last time. You can take my life afterwards if you want. I really don't care, because living without . . . without her is worse than . . ."

He suddenly looked toward the sky above, his arms outstretched from his side as he shouted with all of his strength, his voice like that of a man whose soul was fighting to escape from his body. _"Triton . . .!"_

Exhausted, he fell forward upon the sand, his hand moving to the pouch upon his belt, the pouch he never removed, not even when dressed in his full court dress. Reaching into the well-worn leather sack, he retrieved the radiant blue shell, its luster still present despite the relentless passage of time. His hands trembled as he brought the shell to his ear, his ears straining to listen to the sound contained within its delicate frame. But the voice that once flowed so freely from it was no longer to be heard, as if silenced by some cruel twist of fate, its absence mocking him, taunting him, exalting at his despair. Unable to maintain his composure, he released his grip on the shell, his body racked with sobs as he wept bitterly into the sand.

How much time passed he could not discern, so focused was he upon the emotional torment tearing through his spirit. As he lay upon the beach, body and soul drained of nearly all energy, he could sense his mind playing tricks upon him as a soft voice began to sing in the distance, the melody one he was intimately familiar with, the one that _she_ had—

_Shut up! _he snarled at himself, his hands covering his ears. _It's not real! It's not real!_

To his consternation, the voice only grew in intensity and volume, its phantom beauty serving no purpose other than to mock him, to play upon his already-rattled emotional state. Cursing, he pulled himself to his feet, determined to retire to his private chambers, to seek refuge in something—anything—that would tear his thoughts from—

He felt all traces of air evaporate from his lungs as his eyes beheld the impossible sight before him. Staring in complete disbelief, he watched as slowly, deliberately, a torrent of red hair rose from below the surface, followed closely by pale skin, eyes of blue, the face that had haunted his every waking moment for years, her lips turned upward in a warm smile as she sang to him, called to him. Unable to move, he felt his knees grow weak, his body falling to the sand once more as she approached the shore. Her song coming to an end, she stretched out her hand, her fingers caressing his bearded cheek, her warm, familiar touch convincing him beyond any doubt that this was no figment of his imagination.

"Ariel?" he whispered as his eyes took in her appearance, the years having only served to increase her beauty, her pale skin more radiant than ever, unmarred by wrinkle or blemish, the jade scales of her fluke shining like precious stones in the light of the setting sun. "Ariel, how . . . Why . . . What are you—"

Before he knew what was happening, her lips were upon his own as they kissed one another, their arms enfolding around each other, clinging to each other tightly, refusing to let go ever again. Finally pulling away, she smiled at him. "Oh, how I have missed you, _luvánathem_ . . ."

He frowned. "But, Ariel, what about . . . What about your father? Shouldn't he . . . How did you—"

Her warm laughter filled the air. "My father has experienced a change of heart. His years of stubborn denial have given way to a more welcoming attitude in light of . . . certain developments." Her eyes grew cloudy as she spoke. "You have no idea how many days and nights I wanted so desperately to come see you in spite of your oath. But my father warned me that he would kill you without question if he ever discovered that I . . ." Shaking her head, she continued. "But now . . . Now that he has realized he is coming to the end of his days within these waters, he . . . He wishes to atone for the pain his hardness of heart has caused."

The king looked ather, a look of relief crossing his face. "That . . . That's wonderful." His eyes grew wide as he looked toward the water behind her. "And . . . And our child? How is . . . Is . . . Is he, or she . . .?"

She paused, an uncomfortable expression upon her countenance. "Yes. That is another reason my father has permitted me to come to the surface once more. He desires to see his grandchildren reunited with their father once again."

The king stared at her, not understanding. "Wait . . . Wait a minute. 'Grandchildren' . . . You . . . You mean—"

The waters near his wife suddenly rippled as two figures emerged from below the surface, their forms shrouded by the shadow cast by a passing cloud high in the sky.

"_Mánawe," _one of them spoke to her. _"Es denávathwen—"_

"Yes," his wife responded, her arms moving around their shoulders, her lips kissing each of her children's brows. "Yes, he is. Now, use the human words I have taught you. Go on . . ."

He felt his lungs forget how to breathe, his heart pounding within his chest as the two figures swam toward the shore, their forms coming to rest upon the sand. He felt his entire body begin to shake as he looked upon the young _véldenmaína, _sunlight now illuminating their features as the cloud moved away from the sun. One of them looked nearly identical to her mother, the sea-maiden's flaming hair cascading down her back, her blue eyes filled with curiosity as she beheld the human before her, her indigo scales perfectly complementing her complexion.

The other one, however . . .

The king realized he may as well be looking upon a feminine interpretation of his own face, for the sea-maiden bore the same prominent eyebrows of darkest night, the same jawline, raven hair flowing toward her tailfin of scarlet, her expression more serious than her sibling's, just like . . . just like . . .

"Ariel?" he whispered as he stretched out his hands toward them. "Ariel, are they both . . . I mean, am I—"

"Yes," she responded, her smile returning. "I have kept my vow, Eric. I have only been with you. These two shared my womb. They are both your daughters!"

"Father?" The red-haired sister spoke first, her own hand coming forth to hold his. "Father, is it really you?"

Her sister was not to be outdone. Taking hold of his other hand, she stared in wonderment at his face, studying his features, coming to the same realization as he. _"Suwélnawem," _she whispered, her fingers tracing his palm. "It is you!" she gasped, her eyes growing moist. "Father . . ."

He lost all self-control in that moment, the years of separation melting away as the three of them embraced each other, tears flowing freely as their family finally, at long last, came together. Finally gaining control of himself, he brushed the tears from his eyes, looking upon his daughters as his heart swelled with pride.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't even ask you your names!"

The red-haired one laughed. Glancing toward her mother, she smiled. "_Mánawe _named me Thurúnawe."

"Thurúnawe . . ." He repeated the title again and again, allowing the word to etch itself into his tongue. "That's a beautiful name!"

Her sister clutched his hand. "My name is . . . is Meludïeva," she said, a worried look falling upon her face as she looked at him eagerly. "Do . . . Do you like it, Father?"

He kissed her cheek, brushing a loose strand of black hair from her eyes. "I love it," he responded. "I really do. It's . . . It's perfect for you."

His wife rested her hands gently upon her daughters' shoulders. "I thought you would like them," she said. "I hoped you would."

"What do they mean?" he asked. "I love their names, but . . . do they mean anything in particular?"

A sad smile formed upon her lips. "I named them after the one thing that brought us together: My song." She rested her hand upon her daughter with hair of flame. "Thurúnawe, in your language, means 'harmony of the waters.'" Her other hand cupped her other daughter's chin. "And Meludïeva . . . That name means 'song of the sea.'"

_Melody and Harmony, _he thought to himself as he pulled the three of them close, his arms enfolding them. _How appropriate . . ._

In that moment, he felt the pain and sorrow that had weighed down his spirit for so long evaporate forever. "No matter what happens," he whispered, never wanting to release his hold upon them again. "No matter what happens, we are a family. And we will always be together. Never again will we be separated. I promise . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those curious, the daughters names are pronounced Thuh-ROO-nah-weh and Me-loo-dee-AY-vah. More to come!<strong>


	14. Stanza XIV

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XIV**

* * *

><p><em>Together once more, their love they expressed<em>  
><em>As all barriers at last ceased to be.<em>  
><em>No longer apart, a new future they sought,<em>  
><em>The man and his daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p>"Oh, I had forgotten how soft this feels!"<p>

He laughed ecstatically as he watched her lay upon the bed in his private chambers, her hands roaming over the silken sheets as she smiled mischievously at her husband.

"You haven't changed a bit," he said. "You're just like I remember . . ."

She frowned, her eyes growing cloudy, unwanted memories racing through her mind. "Haven't I?" she asked. "I . . . I'm glad you think so. After everything . . ."

He glanced back at the spare bed on the other side of the room, smiling as he watched his daughters curled beneath the warm blankets, their eyes closed in sleep, their fins protruding from beneath the sheets, twitching every so often. "They're beautiful," he said under his breath. "The most beautiful things I've ever seen . . ."

Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders as she sat up, her fluke curling about his waist. "You have no idea how happy you've made them," she whispered in his ear, her fingers gently massaging the tension from his back. "They have wanted to meet you ever since I first told them the truth about you."

He felt strangely inadequate all of a sudden. "Hopefully I haven't disappointed them." A thought crossed his mind, a wave of guilt washing over him. "They understand, don't they? You explained to them how I didn't want to . . . I didn't abandon them—"

Her lips brushed against his neck. "They know, _luvánathem. _Believe me. They know."

He turned back to face her. "And what about you? How can I ever thank you for raising them without me?" A haunted look came across his face. "How . . . How horrible was it?"

She glanced away, her expression one of noticeable discomfort. "The first few cycles were the hardest. The moment it became obvious that . . . that I couldn't hide any longer, I had to leave my father's house and live on the outskirts of the kingdom." A sad sigh emanated from her throat. "My people do not look kindly upon those who are with child without . . . Anyway, I limited my contact with others as much as possible. It was easier that way. I didn't have to hear their whispers or be subject to their judgment, at least not as often as if I . . ."

His hands balled into fists, his anger rising within him at the thought. "They had no right!" he hissed. "Didn't your father tell them the truth? That we were married—"

She looked at him sadly. "Of course not. That would have been even more embarrassing to him to admit that. But . . ." She closed her eyes, the voices that had taunted her ringing through her memory. "It did not take long for the rumors to spread. For their words to become . . ."

She shook her head. "I could live with their insults, of course. I didn't care because I knew what was true. But what broke my heart was when they began to insult the twins. No matter where we went, someone would call them _ilvéldetheren._" She flinched as she spoke the word, the severity of its meaning apparent to her husband. "It is difficult to translate the full meaning into your language. I don't know what the correct word would be."

He inhaled sharply. "'Bastard'?" he offered. "'Illegitimate'?"

She nodded slightly. "Sort of. But not strong enough. Imagine . . . Imagine that you are trying to tell your worst enemy that he is lower than the dirt beneath your feet. That he doesn't even deserve to be alive. That is the full meaning of . . ."

He felt his heart crumble within his chest as he realized just how much misery he had brought upon her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his hand coming to rest upon her cheek. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't—"

"Don't apologize to me."

Her voice was loving, yet firm as her eyes of blue looked into his own, her own spirit filled with sadness as she studied the wrinkles that had taken hold of his brow, the multiple flecks of gray scattered through his hair and beard, making him appear older than he truly was. "It was my choice as well," she said. "And it is not like you haven't suffered as well."

He bowed his head as he acknowledged the truth in her words. "Not a moment went by when I didn't think of you," he said. "Every minute of every day for fifteen years . . ."

A smile tugged at the edges of her lips. "You kept your word. My father was certain you would break it. That you would set sail upon the ocean. That you would break down and demand that he permit me to see you."

He sighed, his gaze turning back to the bed containing the sleeping _véldenmaína. _"I wanted to so badly," he confessed. "But I couldn't let anything happen to them. I couldn't risk breaking my word if it meant he would . . ."

Clearing his throat, he tried to change the subject. "So what happened? Why all of a sudden after all these years did he have a change of heart? It doesn't make any sense."

She shifted her weight as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the soft flesh of her fin lovingly caressing his ankle. "You can ask him yourself tomorrow," she said, her chin resting upon his shoulder. "He wants to meet with you in the morning."

"Really?"

He glanced back at his wife. "What for?"

She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. All I know is that he refused to have anything to do with me or the girls once they were born. I was not permitted to enter the palace, not even to permit him the opportunity to meet his granddaughters." A single tear flowed from her eye, staining her husband's shirt. "No matter how many times I tried, he would not have me. Until . . . Until about two of your months ago. I don't know what changed, but he came to me, all the way out to our little home outside the kingdom. Something he had never done before. And he . . . He apologized, Eric. He said he couldn't deny his granddaughters' existence any longer. And he . . ." She shifted uncomfortably. "He wept, Eric. I didn't know what to do. The only other time I ever saw him cry was when . . . when _Mánawe _. . ."

She lay back upon the bed, her eyes closing momentarily as she savored once more the smoothness of the blankets. "Can we talk about something else, please?" she asked. "Not the past, but the present."

He lay next to her, his arm draped across her waist. "Sorry. You're right. We've been apart for so long. All I want to do is look at you, to prove you're actually here with me."

She laughed again. "I'm not going anywhere this time, Eric. You are stuck with me."

His hand moved up and down her back gently as he spoke. "That's good to hear. Because I . . . I think we should do it, Ariel. I think we should do what we talked about before."

Her eyes widened. "You mean it? You still want to?"

He nodded in response. "I do. I've had my fill of ruling a kingdom. I don't want anything more to do with it. MacDowell is as good a man as ever. I want . . . I want to get to know my children, Ariel. I want us to be a real family. Somewhere the four of us can be together without having to worry about what anyone else may think." He looked at her expectantly. "What are your thoughts?"

Her warm smile greeted his eyes. "I think that island of yours sounds like a wonderful place to live."

He looked at her in confusion as a strange glint filled her eye. "And . . . I was also thinking that . . . that . . ."

"What?" He frowned at her sudden trepidation. "What is it?"

She looked at him expectantly. "That maybe our family isn't complete at just four. That maybe you would want to . . . to . . ."

Her statement caught him by surprise. "Really? You want another—"

His reaction caused her face to fall, caused her to roll to her side, no longer facing him. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

His hand came to rest upon her shoulder. "No, it's not that! I . . . I'm not opposed to the idea—"

"Then what?" She rolled to face him once again, her eyes moist. "I just thought it would be a good thing if you were able to raise a child, since you had that opportunity taken away from you before. I thought . . . I thought you would want to!"

He ran his hand through her luxurious hair of flame. "I would love to," he said. "As long as . . ." He suddenly felt highly self-conscious as he ran his hand through his graying beard. "As long as you don't think I'm too old. That you still find me . . ."

She looked at him in confusion. "Of course not! Why would you—" Suddenly understanding, she nodded as she brought her hand to his chin, her fingers stroking his whiskers. "I like this," she said softly, marveling at the sensation. "It makes you look even more handsome."

"You're just saying that," he muttered, cursing his graying hair and lined face beneath his breath.

She pulled herself until she was positioned directly above him. "No, I'm not," she whispered, her lips coming into contact with his as she pressed into him, his lips returning her kiss as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Pulling away, they looked into one another's eyes, their hearts pounding loudly as long-repressed desire began to surge through them.

He glanced toward the sleeping twins. "What . . . What about them . . .?"

She smiled as she loosened the string keeping the shells atop her breasts in place. "They're sound sleepers, Eric. They can sleep through anything. Believe me, I know."

She lowered herself onto his chest, her lips next to his ear. "I've missed you so much, Eric. Please. Let me show you how much . . ."

Husband and wife kissed each other passionately as they shifted position, as they became one once more, moving and writhing atop the silken sheets, their cries of pleasure flowing into each others' ears until, having finally expressed their love for each other once more, they fell asleep clinging to one another, happy to be with each other, knowing they would never have to be separated again, that the family they had both pined for was now, at last, a reality.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	15. Stanza XV

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XV**

* * *

><p><em>His thoughts, now they turned to the children he sired,<em>  
><em>The daughters he had waited for so long to meet.<em>  
><em>Likewise, they were eager to make the acquaintance<em>  
><em>Of the man who had fathered two daughters of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Her head came to rest against the smooth silt that formed the floor of her secluded hideaway beneath the waves, flaming red hair cascading about as her right hand absentmindedly caressed her abdomen, her formerly flat belly now swollen and engorged, evidence of the two lives that had taken shape within her womb over the course of the previous months. A smile fell upon her lips as she felt her children move within her, their kicks and turns stronger than ever as their motion sent flutters flowing through her being. It had been a difficult journey to this point, she mused, and now . . .<em>

_ "It will not be much longer now, Your Highness."_

_ Straining against her now-confounded center of gravity, she pulled herself to a sitting position, her gaze falling upon the violet-scaled _véldenmaína _that had been examining her. Her fin flicked once as she steadied herself, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps, the weight of the offspring within her womb making it difficult for her to complete even the simplest of tasks. "Really?" she asked in her people's language as she looked toward the _thruwélethwan_, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Is . . . Is it time, Eluvena?"_

_ The healer raised an eyebrow as she looked upon the exiled princess of the sea, a chastising smile upon her face. "I have lost count of how many new lives I have delivered, Your Highness. I _know _when a _véldenmaína_'s pangs are about to begin. Trust me, Your Highness. You should prepare yourself—"_

_ Her words cut off in her throat as the princess before her suddenly cried out in pain, her eyes shutting tightly as both of her hands instinctively clung to her belly. Opening her eyes, her face pale, she looked upon the healer in fear. "I'm . . . I'm scared, Eluvena . . ."_

_ The _thruwélethwan _took her hand, her other palm stroking the princess's hair reassuringly, every action formed by a lifetime of experience in assisting in the most sacred of rituals. "Try not to be frightened, Ariel. It will only make your body more tense, more difficult for the babies to be born."_

_ The healer grimaced inwardly as the princess squeezed her hand tightly as another wave of agony tore through her, her emerald fin thrashing wildly in response. The _thruwélethwan _brought her free hand to her charge's cheek, her fingers delicately caressing white skin in a desperate bid to calm her. "Ariel, you have to calm down," she stated, forcing her voice to be calm as she watched the princess begin to hyperventilate before her. "Slow your breathing down. You _have _to—"_

_ The sea-maiden looked about in a panic, the pain wracking her body increasing in intensity. "Something . . . Something's wrong! I know it! Is it because they're—"_

_ "Do not think about it!" Eluvena ordered as she took hold of the princess's face, forcing her charge to look at her. "Your children will be fine, Ariel. But only if you calm yourself and allow your body to do what it knows needs to be done. Do you understand? You _must _relax."_

_ Her words had their intended effect, for the princess's breathing slowed, her face, while betraying the pain coursing through her body, was no longer lined with abject terror. "You're right," she whispered. "I . . . I can do this." A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she regarded the healer, the healer that had become her sole companion. "Thank you, Eluvena. Thank you for not shunning me like everyone else. Even though it has . . ." She grimaced as her pangs increased in duration, the pain now cutting into her like a dull blade. "Even though it has affected your own standing—"_

_ The _thruwélethwan _smiled. "Do not thank me until your children have been safely delivered, Your Highness." With a thrust of her tailfin, she moved downward until her face was positioned directly below the princess's swollen belly, her eyes focused intently on the place where white skin and jade scales came together. Nodding to herself, she looked up. "You are ready, Ariel. You must push. Now!"_

_ Her face contorted into an expression of concentration mingled with agony as a primal cry tore from her throat, echoing about the walls of the underwater cavern as she focused all of her strength into her singular task._

_ Eluvena clutched the princess's hand once more as she spurred the younger sea-maiden along. "That's it, Your Highness. Again. Again!"_

_ The princess gasped in exhaustion as she readied her muscles once more, the pain now almost unbearable. "I . . . I can't! It's too . . . It's too much—"_

_ "You can!" Eluvena insisted as she brought her hands to the princess's abdomen, her palms pressed against white skin as she whispered to herself, the ancient words flowing from her tongue as she envisioned the infants within the womb beneath her fingertips. Her hands instinctively provided pressure upon her frightened charge's belly as she worked upon the flesh, guiding the unborn children to their exit. A cry erupted from her lips as she realized her efforts were successful, that both children were nearly ready to emerge into the waters of the sea that would be their newfound home._

_ "Come on, Ariel!" she whispered, one of her hands lightly squeezing the princess's shoulder. "You are so close! Now . . ." She fixed her eyes upon the sea-maiden's own, her expression filled with a commanding presence, as if inflicting her will upon the exhausted _véldenmaína_. "Now . . . Push!"_

* * *

><p>He opened his eyes, not surprised to see that the room was still dark, that it was the middle of the night. He had grown accustomed to fitful, restless slumber; it had been his lot every night without variation since his separation from her, as if the universe had not been content to merely punish him with her absence, but to ensure he would never again taste the sweet fruit of pleasant slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he started slightly as he realized he was not alone within his bed, his momentary panic replaced with a sense of pure bliss as his mind recovered its memories of the day's events.<p>

She rested soundly upon the bed next to him, her head cushioned by the pillow nestled beneath her hair, her fin protruding from beneath the sheets, draped loosely over the foot of the bed. Not wanting to wake her, he lay motionless, his eyes filled with happiness as he watched her sleep, amused to see her fin move back and forth from time to time, as if reliving some adventure beneath the waves once more.

His silent contemplation was interrupted by a strange sound across the room. Frowning, he rose, his eyes coming to rest upon the doorway to his chambers. For the briefest of moments, he feared that he had been found out, that one of his servants had discovered his secret and had alerted the entire palace. That notion was quickly driven from his mind by the realization that the noise had originated from the bed on which his newfound daughters were sleeping.

Concerned, he cautiously tiptoed across the room, peering through the pale moonlight streaming through the window toward the bed. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that the twins were awake, that they were speaking to each other in hushed tones in their mother's language. Not wanting to interrupt, he began to turn away, but stopped as he realized that Thurúnawe was crying, tears flowing freely down her face as her sister stroked her long red hair in an obvious effort to console her.

"Is . . . Is everything all right, girls?" he asked softly, instantly regretting his choice of words for fear that his tone was patronizing, that they would regard him as interfering in some private moment not meant to be seen by him.

His daughters flinched noticeably at his unexpected voice, turning to look at him in fright, relaxing only when they realized who he was. Meludïeva ran a hand through her ebony locks as she regarded her father, her other arm resting around her sister's shoulder. "We . . . We are sorry, Father," she said quietly, her head bowing low, not daring to look him in the eye. "We did not mean to wake you. It will not happen again."

He looked at them quizzically before suddenly understanding. _They think . . . They think I'm upset with them? That they have offended me in some way? _

Laughing, he sat at the foot of the bed, careful to avoid placing his weight upon his daughters' delicate fins. "It's okay," he said, rubbing his beard. "I'm not . . . I'm not angry at all, girls. I just . . . I just heard something and I wanted to make sure that you were . . . that you were safe, that's all."

The fifteen-year-old _véldenmaína _twins relaxed noticeably at his words, Thurúnawe hastily brushing the tears from her face, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

Sensing an opportunity, he spoke, hoping against hope that he was not offending his daughter. "What's the matter?" he asked quietly. "Not that there's anything wrong, but I just saw you crying and I wanted . . . I mean, I just want to . . ." He smacked his palm against his brow, realizing that he was not remotely conveying the impression of a trustworthy, wizened father that he had wanted to portray, but instead an incompetent fool.

To his surprise, the twins laughed, not at him but as an expression of the tension within the air dissipating into the ether.

"It's . . . It's nothing," Meludïeva said. "Thurúnawe just has, sometimes . . . oh, what's the human word for _ilvéndewhem—_"

"Nightmares?" he offered, hoping he sounded reassuring. "Bad dreams?"

The red-haired sea-maiden nodded, her shoulders tensing visibly as he felt her fin curl tightly against his waist beneath the sheets. "I'm not proud of this, Father. I know I'm too old to . . . to worry about them, but they . . ."

He leaned forward, gently taking hold of her hand. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Everyone has nightmares from time to time. Even me."

He frowned as he noticed for the first time the raised scar upon the back of her hand, his fingers involuntarily coming into contact with the remnants of the old injury. "What's this?" he asked, his heart beginning to pound faster within his chest, his vision slowly turning red as he wondered in fury who would have dared harm his child—_his _child—

Thurúnawe grimaced as she looked to her sister for support. Meludïeva spoke, her eyes slowly filling with sadness. "That . . . That is why she has the . . . the 'neight-mah-eers,' Father."

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "What . . . What happened?"

"It was my fault," Thurúnawe said softly, her face paling as the memories stirred within her mind. "It was just after we celebrated our seventh cycle. _Mánawe _had gone out to find food for us. We weren't supposed to leave our home. Not by ourselves, at least. Especially after how the others our age treated us. But . . ." Her lip began to quiver. "I just wanted to show them we were just like them. That there was nothing wrong with us . . ."

Meludïeva took over, her arms resting around her sister's neck. "We swam toward the village until we found a group of _véldenmaína _our age. I thought if we just talked to them, if we could just spend time with them, they would see that we could be friends. But they started to insult us and . . . and they wouldn't stop. One of them even pulled out a blade and . . ." Her own eyes began to grow watery as she looked upon her sister's scarred hand. "She cut Thurúnawe's hand, saying 'I guess they _do _bleed, after all.'"

He felt his rage turn to misery as he realized just what his parentage had bequeathed his offspring. "Oh God . . . Why . . ."

Thurúnawe sensed his anxiety. "It's not your fault, Father," she said softly. "We've never been wanted by anyone except _Mánawe_. We've never really belonged anywhere."

At her words, he set his jaw, his gaze becoming fierce as he took hold of his daughters' hands. "That changes now," he stated. "We are finally together and I . . . I swear, I am going to make certain that you know you are loved. No matter what it takes, I am going to make up for what you have lost."

He was surprised to see Meludïeva blush slightly. "You are not at all what we expected, Father."

He raised an eyebrow, a smile forming upon his lips despite his efforts to suppress it. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're . . . you're not _old_," she said. "And you . . . You make us feel safe. I don't know how to describe it, but . . ."

"Father?"

Thurúnawe looked at him expectantly. "Could you . . . Could you please get us some water? We've never been out of the ocean this long before, and I'm . . . I feel like I'm going to—"

He nodded, moving toward the doorway. "Of course. I'll be right back."

"And . . . And Father?"

"Yes?" he replied, looking expectantly at his daughters.

Meludïeva and Thurúnawe glanced at each other, then back at him. "Thank you," they said in unison, their voices soft, yet filled with gratitude.

Opening the door, he shut it behind him softly as he silently made his way down the corridor, grateful that, if nothing else, another door had been opened that night that, with any luck, would remain open for years to come.

* * *

><p><em>She collapsed back upon the floor of the sea, her body nearly spent as she fought to marshal enough strength to look upward. Weakly, she heard her own voice call out, as if from afar. "Eluvena? What . . . What is it? What's the matter?"<em>

_The_ thruwélethwan_ swam forward until her head appeared in the princess's line of sight. "You've done it!" she exclaimed. "Your daughters are here!"_

Daughters, _she ruminated, her mind flooded with emotion. _Two of them_ . . ._

_ Eluvena's voice broke the silence once more. "They must be brought to the surface soon. Their lungs must be opened, just like our own, or else they will never be able to breathe above the water."_

_ Groaning in pain, she forced herself upward. "Give . . . Give them to me."_

_ Eluvena shook her head, the infants held tightly in her arms. "You are not strong enough, Ariel. You can barely move. Let me—"_

_ "No!"_

_ Her voice was more forceful than she had intended, but she was hardly in the mood to argue. "I want to do this," she insisted. "Please. Give me my children."_

_ Sighing, the healer carefully slid the newborns into their mother's arms, the sea-maiden wasting no time as she propelled her exhausted form from the cave to the surface above. Higher and higher she climbed, fear rising within her as she worried she would not be able to make it after all when—_

_ Her head broke through the surface of the waters, her emerald fin treading water as, hands trembling, she raised her tiny daughters above the waves. The warm sunlight flowed over their small forms as they instinctively covered their eyes, their cries of discomfort ringing out as their lungs opened up, now capable of extracting precious oxygen from both air and water. _

_ Her own voice joined her children's as she laughed, the effort of her labor now handsomely rewarded as she looked with amazement upon her precious infants. Her lips fell upon the brow of her sapphire-scaled child, the infant's small flecks of hair the same color as her own. Her attention then turned to her other daughter, her breath catching in her throat as she realized that her hair, her eyes, her face—even in infancy—was so much like . . . like . . ._

_ Her thoughts returned to the present as their cries grew louder, their small arms flailing about as they struggled to express their primal needs._

_ "I'm sorry," she apologized as she carefully nestled both of them within her left arm. Sinking back into the safety of the sea, she loosened the shells upon her bosom with her right hand, the garment floating beside her as she offered her hungry children her milk. "There you are."_

_As they suckled happily, she found herself quietly humming the same melody she had sung so many times before, the wordless song lulling her now-fed daughters into blissful slumber._

"_Sleep, my little Thurúnawe and Meludïeva," she whispered as she held them close, the names she had chosen long ago now sounding perfect to her ears. "Sleep, Harmony and Melody . . ."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come!<strong>


	16. Stanza XVI

**Daughter of the Sea**

**A Novella**

**Stanza XVI**

* * *

><p><em>And now, at long last, the time, it had come,<em>  
><em>For her father and he to convene.<em>  
><em>For repentance and forgiveness to be offered, full measure,<em>  
><em>From the man and his daughter of the sea.<em>

* * *

><p><em>"Please! You have to let me in!"<em>

_ The guards on duty at the entrance of the underwater palace looked at each other uncomfortably before their sights returned to the emerald-scaled _véldenmaína _before them, each of her arms clutching a tight bundle of . . . something within their grasp._

_ "We are sorry, Your Highness," one of the guards spoke in the language of his people, his face turning red with embarrassment at the situation. "But our orders are absolute. His Majesty has made it clear that under no circumstances are we to—"_

_ "But you don't understand!"_

_ Her eyes filled with tears despite the constant presence of the water surrounding her, her long, red hair cascading about her worried face as she looked upon the guards in disbelief. "I know what he said," she conceded. "But surely he would make an exception . . . just this once to see his—"_

_ "What are you doing here?!"_

_ The guards snapped to attention, their faces paling in fright as the sea king appeared from behind his daughter, the flesh visible beneath his flowing beard scarlet with fury. Their hearts beating furiously within their chests, they watched in silence as the princess slowly turned to face her outraged father, her hands clutching the bundles of tightly-wrapped blankets of kelp tightly to her breast._

"Veldre," _she offered softly. "I . . . I know I am not supposed to be here, but—"_

_ For the briefest of moments, the sea king's eyes softened as he realized just what his daughter was holding in her arms. The moment passed, however, his eyebrows knitting with unbridled rage. "I believe I was perfectly clear with my instructions to you, Ariel."_

_ She would have felt better if he had shouted, if he had roared at her. Instead, the icy quiet of his voice sharpened the words that fell from his tongue, as if thousands of knives were simultaneously piercing her heart. "I . . . I know. And I swear, I will go back to the Outlying Lands just as you commanded. But I thought . . . I thought you would—"_

_ "You thought _wrong_!"_

_ The trident within his grasp was now red hot, as if heated by invisible tongues of flame that danced around the ancient artifact. The sea king's wrath was now on full display, his inhibitions relinquished as he stared upon the maiden he had once called his daughter, the maiden who had violated their laws, defiled herself, brought humiliation and shame upon him. And now, she dared to bring her . . . her—_

_ "I . . . I'm sorry," she whispered, her hands delicately patting the bundles within her grasp as she fought to maintain her own composure, unsure if she speaking to her father or to the innocent lives slumbering in her arms._

_ The king looked at her as if she had just uttered a blasphemous phrase. "You are _sorry_?! Is that the best you have to offer? After everything you have done . . ."_

_ Finally regaining some semblance of control over his emotions, the sea king turned his back upon her, his breathing coming slowly, deliberately as he fought to quell his anger. "Go back to the Outlying Lands, Ariel. And take your . . . your offspring with you. I believe you have caused your sisters and I enough suffering."_

_ She bowed her head, her lips gently caressing the brows of her sleeping children as she willed them to remain as they were. "Can I at least see them one last time? Please? Just to show them—"_

_ The king whirled around, his face creased with anger and heartache. "I stand corrected, Ariel. You no longer have any sisters. Or a father. You are no daughter of mine. This dishonor . . . This shame you have brought upon us . . . As far as I am concerned, you and those . . . those _things _you hold in your arms are dead."_

_ She opened her mouth to protest, but his words cut off her own. "You have brought this upon yourself, Ariel! I spared the lives of your children as my final act of pity toward you. But I will be damned if I will allow their presence to corrupt our people. This is the path you have chosen, Ariel. It is time for you to live with the consequences. And, if I ever discover that you or your children have tried to make contact with those above the surface, I will kill every human that dares tread upon my ocean, beginning with your . . . with your . . ."_

_ His cheeks were red once more as he felt his wrath rise within his spirit once more. "Their blood will be on your hands. Now . . . Leave us, and never return. _Now!_"_

_ Heartbroken, she stared at her father, her head moving back and forth in utter disbelief. "Who are you?"_

_Not waiting for a response, she flicked her fin furiously as she cut through the water, her eyes barely registering where she was going, not stopping until she had arrived at her secret hideaway beyond the boundaries of her father's kingdom. Upon arrival, she finally slowed, the rational portion of her mind taking control from her distraught emotional state as she silently moved through the secret entrance to what was now her home._

_ A pair of cries filled her ears, shaking her from her thoughts. Looking down, she noticed that her children were both crying, their hands reaching out to her from beneath their leafy blankets, their fins struggling in vain to propel themselves closer to their mother._

_ Swallowing, she forced herself to suppress her distress, to sublimate her misery for the sake of meeting her daughters' needs._

_ "It's all right," she whispered as she delicately unwrapped her children from their blankets. "Everything is okay now. _Mánawe _is here for you."_

_ Their cries faded away as they snuggled against the warmth of her skin, the gentle beating of her heart lulling them back to sleep as she ever-so-gently curved her neck until her red tresses flowed protectively over her daughters' forms. Satisfied, she carefully propelled herself to the soft silt of the ocean floor, her own eyes closing along with her children's, the events of the day overwhelming her._

_ "I promise," she whispered as sleep began to overtake her. "No matter what happens, no matter what anyone else says or thinks, I will always love you. I promise . . ."_

* * *

><p>"Where is he?"<p>

He paced about the beach, hands buried in his trouser pockets, the cool predawn air blowing through his hair as he stared across the ocean waters, searching for any sign of the sea king. Despite his wife's assurances that his father-in-law desired to speak to him under a banner of peace, the earthly king remained skeptical, his hand rubbing his bearded chin in trepidation.

"Calm down, Eric."

She smiled at him as she sat upon the sand, her fin soaking in the water of the surf, her gaze turning to the waters just off the shore where Thurúnawe and Meludïeva were swimming, the twins' respective fins of blue and red glistening as the first hints of sunlight glistened upon the horizon.

The king sat beside his wife, his arms wrapping around her waist. "I'm sorry, Ariel. I'm just a little nervous, that's all." The lines etched into his brow relaxed slightly as he saw the delight his daughters were taking in leaping from the waves without restraint. "They certainly look happy, don't they?"

"They are," his wife said quietly, her fingers reaching behind her to stroke his bearded face. "This is the first time I've ever let them come above the surface like this. I . . . I was always so afraid of what my father would do to you if I dared allow them to—"

"_Mánawe!"_

Thurúnawe's voice rang through the air, her hand outstretched toward the rising sun as if to touch the ball of light as it hovered just above the surface of the waters in the distance. Her eyes filled with excitement, she looked to her sister before glancing back toward her mother.

"_Isinderen," _the _véldenmaína _whispered as Meludïeva draped her hand upon her back. _"Mánatulen es íldavena . . ."_

The king glanced toward his wife, his brow furrowed. "What . . . What is she saying?"

She smiled along with her daughters as she, too, watched as the sun seemed to become one with the water for the briefest of moments as, at long last, it rose above the horizon, beginning its daily sojourn across the heavens. "It is an old story among our people," she said, both for her husband's benefit and for her own. "The legend of Mánatulen and Isinderen."

He stared blankly at her. "Who?"

She leaned back, her head resting upon her husband's chest as their daughters disappeared on the other side of the rocks in their quest for a closer look at the sun above. "Do you promise not to laugh if I tell you?" she asked hesitantly. "That you won't just call it a . . . a 'super-stitch-ee-ohn' . . ."

He shook his head, sensing how important the tale was to her, to his daughters. "Tell me. Please. I . . . I want to know."

She inhaled slowly, preparing to tell him the story the same way it had been passed down to her . . . the same way she had told it to her daughters. "I've never told this in your language before, so some of the details may not translate, but . . .

"Ages upon ages ago, when all of this . . ." She stretched out her hand over the beach, pointing toward the pulsing tide. "When all of this was new, Mánatulen, Mother of the Waters, looked up at the sky and . . . and fell in love with Isinderen, the Light of the Heavens."

She pointed upward to the sun, the orange sphere rising higher with each passing moment, bathing the beach with its golden hues. "Day after day she would stare up from the ocean in silence, watch him move across the sky in silence, not daring to try to speak to him for fear that he would reject her affections, that he would mock her.

"But one day, as Isinderen came to the end of his daily course across the sky, he called out to her, saying: 'Come to me, Maiden of the Sea. I have watched you these past days, as you have watched me, and I have been taken in by your beauty. Meet me at the horizon when I have finished my travels, that I may come to know you . . ."

She brushed a stray lock of scarlet hair from her eyes, her fin splaying outward as she looked at the sun above, her husband completely enraptured by her words. "The tales say that, although Mánatulen and Isinderen can only be together twice each day for a brief while, their passion and love for each other is greater than any to be found on land or sea. That the first of my people were born from their love, that we are children of both water and flame." She raised an eyebrow as she regarded her husband's reaction to her words. "Like I said, it may seem like just a story to you. But to us, it . . . it tells us where we come from. And that love can be found even between the most unlikely of people . . ."

Her husband opened his mouth to respond, his lips turning into a grin, but his speech was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. The king and his wife glanced involuntarily toward the source of the unexpected sound, the king's face remaining impassive as he stared upon the ruler of the ocean who had risen above the surface, his tri-pronged scepter glistening in his palm.

The sea king spoke before the human ruler could muster together a sentence. "The years have not been kind to you, human," he stated flatly, his tone impassive, nonchalant as he gestured toward the human's graying hair and beard.

"_Veldre, _please!" his daughter protested, a disapproving expression upon her face. _"Ne thémetha—"_

"No, it's fine," her husband interrupted, his hand brushing against her shoulder as he rose to his full height upon the sand. Briefly looking back toward his daughters, their voices silenced as they stared reverentially toward the awe-inspiring sight of their grandfather, the human king folded his arms as he stared down his father-in-law. "You'll understand if I don't leap for joy at your presence."

To his surprise, the sea king bowed his head slightly, his eyes visibly filled with contrition. "Indeed, I do, human. I have done much . . . much soul-searching these past fifteen of your years. And, as . . ." He shifted uncomfortably, his hand running through his long gray beard as he searched for the words necessary to express himself, his fingers shaking as they caressed his flowing whiskers. "And as I sense the end of my days coming upon me, I have come to understand just how prideful I have been . . ."

His eyes flashed with fire once again as his piercing gaze fell upon the human king once more. "You understand that this is not easy for me to admit, human? I am nothing if not prideful, even to a fault. The notion of me conversing with you in such manner as this would have been anathema even a matter of months ago!"

The human king suddenly realized that he had been holding his breath for quite some time. Inhaling deeply, he, at long last, spoke once more, his voice quiet, respectful. "Then what changed, Your Majesty? Why, after all this time, did you . . ."

The sea king let out an unexpected laugh, his shoulders shaking as he looked upon the king and his daughter, his laugh fading away as his eyes grew sorrowful, full of regret. "Why, for the reason any male does what he does, human. Because I . . . I fell in love."

His daughter looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What . . . What are you talking about?" she asked cautiously, her fin moving back in forth amid the surf.

The sea king swam forward, pulling himself along the shore, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled his child into his tight embrace. "I was so wrong, Ariel," he said, his throat hoarse, raspy. "I was wrong to banish you. I am willing to admit it now, now that I can feel the end of my days approaching. But you must understand: I was so filled with anger, blinded what happened to your mother that I . . ." He paused, swallowing, his lip quivering visibly. "I have caused you so much pain."

She smiled sadly as she brought her hand to her father's cheek. "It's all right now, _Veldre. _I . . . I forgive you."

Her father nodded, his gaze shifting until it was focused upon the waters beyond the shoreline. "As I was saying, the reason I have decided the time has come for me to make amends is because I have had my heart stolen from me. I did not wish for this to happen, mind you. It simply happened when, ten moons ago, I happened to cross paths with . . . with them. And the moment I saw them, I . . . I _knew_ . . ."

Husband and wife were now entirely baffled by the sea king's words. "'Them'?" she repeated, trying to grasp the meaning concealed within her father's words. "What do you mean . . . 'them'?"

Her husband let out a small gasp as his mind suddenly made sense of the sea king's words. "Ariel, I think he means—"

Before the sea king could respond, Meludïeva and Thurúnawe surfaced, their faces lighting up as they recognized the figure before them. "Grandfather!"

The sea king smiled as his granddaughters swam to him, excitedly wrapping their arms around him. "You see?" he said as he looked to his daughter and her astonished husband. "I told you. These thieves here: They have stolen my heart. And I do not want them to give it back."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More to come.<strong>


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